THE BLOOD IN THE BEGINNING

KIM FALCONER www.harlequinbooks.com.au ABOUT THE AUTHOR Photo: Jodi Osborne

Kim Falconer is a bestselling speculative fiction author with nine published novels. Her work is described as contemporary and ancient, dark and compelling, humorous, romantic, provocative, and charged with blockbuster action. Originally from California, she lives on the far eastern coast of Australia with two gorgeous black cats.

Along with her author websites, she runs Good Vibe Astrology, trains with a sword and is completing a master’s degree. As an eternal student, she has studied everything from Jungian psychology to quantum physics theory and marine biology to socio-technology and web design. Her favourite pastimes, besides daydreaming, include meditation, organic gardening, running on the beach, yoga and weight training. Her novel writing is done in the early hours of the morning. Currently she’s working on additional books in the Ava Sykes series. For my family and my cat, Ra … CONTENTS

About the Author

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three

Acknowledgements CHAPTER ONE

‘Heads up!’ A warning came through my earpiece as the door flew open. Two men, one average build, one overweight, tumbled past and hit the sidewalk, fists flying. The smell of sour beer and club music blasted out with them, the bass vibrating my bones. A few girls in short- shorts and sparkling tops squealed. The rest of the crowd cheered. Typical midnight in Newton, Los Angeles. ‘I’m on this,’ I said to Jeff, the other security guard working the door. ‘All yours, Sykes.’ He had my back, if I needed it, but I wasn’t planning on this taking long. The big chump pounding the other guy into the kerb was my target. As his fist came up for another blow, I jumped on his back, grabbed his wrist with my left hand, crooked his arm and shoved my right through it like a lever. A little lift and his face slammed forward into the ground. When he tried to move, I amped up the torque. He groaned, but not as hard as the poor bastard trapped underneath him. ‘Alright, big guy. Up you come.’ I lightened the pressure just enough for him to move to his knees. The man underneath blinked his one good eye at me; the other was already swollen shut. I recognised him from an hour ago, when he swaggered his skinny ass up to me and flashed ID, saying he knew the governor, or some crap, and I could smell the chemicals oozing off his skin. The crusts of coke residue on the inside of his nose weren’t hard to spot either, now that he was sprawled on his back. ‘Stay put!’ He didn’t argue. I pulled the heavyweight up, and he tried to turn on me. ‘Really?’ I cranked his arm. ‘You want to do that?’ He froze, submitting to the restraint then, unbelievably, tried to break away again. ‘Dumbass. How high are you tonight?’ Jeff had caught him doing lines with a couple of girls in the ladies room, but he’d waved a wad of cash, meaning he had the boss’s blessings, and went back to it. Nothing we could do about it. Money talked at Lucky Lounge, but he was mine now. I kicked the back of his knee and we were on the ground, my elbow clipping the kerb. I repressed a groan; he didn’t. His collarbone crunched, or maybe his shoulder. It sounded painful, whatever it was. The bozo gasped for air. Suddenly, he was compliant. ‘Let’s try this again.’ The new takedown worked better than I’d hoped, my training paying off in spades. ‘Get your ass up, and behave.’ As he stood, I drove him straight across the sidewalk and into the wall. His cheek flattened against the stucco, nose gushing blood. ‘You’re dead, bitch.’ The effectiveness of his words were lost in the nasal tone. ‘Sure I am.’ Sirens whirled in the background. I lowered my voice, speaking into my mic. ‘Hey, Dean. Cops are here.’ A string of curses came through the headset. I sympathised. The LAPD were as likely to arrest our manager as they were to haul these douches away. With so many cops on the take, it was hard to know what to expect. ‘You alright in there, Dean?’ ‘Yeah, we’re sweet, Sykes.’ He didn’t sound like he meant it, but then he thanked me for the heads up. That was sincere. When I started bouncing for Lucky Lounge, the guys thought it was a joke. A chick handling the door? They pissed themselves laughing. Then they got to know me — cool under pressure and surprisingly strong, for a ‘chick.’ They’d asked a lot of questions, which I ignored. They’d guessed right, though. I’d lived through the Big One. Not everyone in LA had. That quake was still a source of controversy. Yeah, the San Andreas Fault tended to rumble — I took geology as an undergrad, so I knew that much — but part of California dropping into the ocean … um, no. That was beyond even the most way-out conspiracy theories, until fifteen years ago when a series of quakes went literally off the Richter scale. A section of the coastline split like someone cracked a peanut shell, leaving pieces scattered along the seafloor. Some blamed it on fracking. Others said it was God’s punishment. Not that I attributed anything biblical to it. If it had been Righteous Intervention, the ‘higher powers’ had neglected to eradicate the bad guys. Gangs, drug dealers and thugs were still aplenty. If anything, more of them emerged and took control in the anarchy of the Aftermath, flooding in from other cities to pick over the spoils. ‘What happened?’ A lanky, uniformed officer stepped in with his partner, pulling me from my thoughts. ‘A coked-up asshole happened.’ It didn’t take long for them to cuff both men and haul them into a squad car. Small favours. Perhaps we had ‘good’ cops tonight; as long as they didn’t let the men out around the corner and pocket their cash. ‘Sykes! Who started it?’ Dean, the manager of Lucky Lounge, was suddenly in my face. I pushed back the strands of dark hair that had escaped my French braid. Joe Blow had managed to pull out a section and, while it might be better to keep my hair short, I hadn’t had time to cut it recently, not since my last birthday, nine months ago. Plus, it grew insanely fast. ‘Didn’t see a thing until they flew out the door.’ Dean grumbled. It was the third drunk and disorderly on record this week. He had to be getting edgy, clocking those fines. A few more and the club might have to close down for a while, or pay someone off, big-time. He looked over his shoulder as Detective Rourke’s unmarked Ford sedan pulled in behind the cop car. We both sighed. Rourke was a good one. At least tonight they’d charge the assholes, not Dean, or me. Rourke looked stressed, his square face drawn, iron-grey hair in a fresh buzz cut. He was fighting fit, though. No doubt there. We had a silent ‘this again’ exchange before he shook his head and made his way toward us. I repressed a smile. The detective and I went way back, but not in a cosy family friendship way, hell no. He’d set me straight when I went a little wayward. Surviving the Aftermath, who didn’t have issues? Okay, a lot wayward. Rourke kept me out of juvie, for the most part, and though there’d been no luck finding decent foster care, he started me in the LA- MMA junior circuit, and that saved my life. ‘You want to fight, you might as well learn how not to be killed.’ When I showed up for my first martial arts class, he was leading. Yeah, we went way back. ‘What am I going to do now?’ Dean was a short, thin man who wore his anxiety inside-out. ‘Not my problem, boss.’ I adjusted my left earphone and went back to the door. They paid me to bounce the rowdies, not liaise with the cops. ‘You could stop selling booze, and be a little less lenient with the drug abuse,’ I said over my shoulder, but Dean had already gone to intercept Rourke. It was back to guard dog duty for me, which was a relief. Talking to beat cops, even when I was in the right, wasn’t one of my favourite things. It had something to do with the ‘flying under the radar’ thing. I never knew if they were going to help me, or put me in cuffs. I took my place at the front of the line, standing military-style at-ease: legs shoulder-width apart, arms behind my back, eyes forward. I caught a few comments from a couple of guys down the line, but my stare shut them up. Stupid drunk-ass clowns. It was enough to put a girl off men entirely. Almost. Of course, without them, Lucky Lounge wouldn’t need a bouncer. I dropped the random thoughts and nodded to Jeff. He was busy stepping in on an argument halfway along the line. Work was not the place to chew on the future. It was definitely not the time to think about the thesis presentation I had to deliver at 10.00 a.m. tomorrow morning. The senior lecturer–audited one. Not going there now. I squared my shoulders a bit more, and lifted my face, fixing on the crowd. A classic beauty, Betty Smathers used to say. Right. What did a foster mother from South Bay know? The only thing classic she ever saw were the Buicks her son jacked. I quickly dumped those thoughts as well, going deeper into ‘impenetrable’ mode. I wanted the crowd to see five foot seven, one hundred thirty pounds of intimidation packed into tight black jeans and a black tee, marked only with the Lucky Lounge logo — two martini glasses clinking together with a four-leaf clover above — stitched on the small front pocket. Most people thought bouncers had to be heavyweight muscle-bound meatheads on ’roids — male, naturally — but they didn’t, if they knew how to fight. I relaxed inwardly, letting peripheral vision take over. On the outside, I remained as hard as my steel-toed, Timberland boots. The night was young. Anything could happen. After Jeff handled the altercation, the crowd stayed contained. Their ringside seats to fight night, and the LAPD’s unusually quick response time, kept them subdued. When a man walked purposely toward me, I didn’t break stance. He was dressed much like me in black jeans, black shirt and boots. Interesting. ‘Quite a performance,’ he said as he stood a little to the side. He was medium height, with a ruddy complexion. Not handsome, but sexy vibe, in a street- hardened sort of way. Weird with the shades, though. It was the middle of the night. He took a superman pose. I could practically see the cape flapping in the wind behind him. ‘Just doing my job,’ I said. Who the hell was this guy? As he moved closer, beneath a hint of cheap cologne, I caught a whiff of blood. What the hell? I waited for him to explain himself. He didn’t. ‘Sir, you’re going to need to step back, unless you want to give me a name.’ I didn’t keep a clipboard. All the names on the door list were in my head, compliments of a nearly perfect photographic memory. He didn’t say anything, just pulled a card out of his jeans pocket and handed it over. I glanced at it before handing it back. ‘Poseidon?’ ‘It’s a new club.’ Like I didn’t know. Ever since the Big One changed the topography of LA, clubs were popping up everywhere. Who knew certain business owners were going to become billionaires when California cracked? Even a crap-ass housing project becomes prime real estate if it suddenly sports an ocean view. But Poseidon was something else entirely. Everyone on campus talked about it. Cate, who claimed me as her BFF, had landed a job there, as a ‘siren.’ Not my gig, what with the coconut- covered breasts and glittery fish-like tail, but if they were looking for a bouncer, that was another thing. He tilted his head. ‘Come by tomorrow, late afternoon, and talk to the boss.’ When I didn’t respond, he leaned closer. ‘The pay’s impressive.’ Cate had mentioned that. ‘Thanks.’ Money was money, and my job could dry up if the lounge closed. This might just be my lucky night. He must have sensed the interest. ‘I’m Billy,’ he said and offered the card again. ‘Ava Sykes.’ I took it, and he left me to my job. Three hours later, I was on the bus, heading down South Broadway for the fifteen minute ride home.

* * *

It was 3.45 a.m. when I swiped the keypad and punched in the code. The door to the apartment building clicked open, and I smiled up at the hidden camera. Force of habit. It wasn’t manned any more. With dwindling relief funds, the outer city’s security systems had suffered. South Gate’s twenty-four hour watch was one of the first to go, but I didn’t mind. Call it affordable rent. I padded down the ground floor hallway and opened the first door on the left. 3.46 a.m. I wouldn’t get more than a few hours’ sleep and sleeping meant no time to prep my slides and run through the presentation. I locked my gun in the safe and thought through the options. Yeah, I had a photographic memory. Images were easy to memorise, but I couldn’t just regurgitate this stuff. It had to make sense, become a part of me. ‘Screw it. I’m staying up.’ It’s never a good sign, talking to walls, and worse when you swear at them, but it seemed important to declare my intentions aloud. After a hot shower, I rough-dried my hair, slipped on satin basketball shorts and a tattered UCLA tee, brewed a pot of organic coffee and got to work. It wasn’t long before the phone played my least favourite morning ringtone, making my stomach growl, right on cue. Smog-brown sunlight splashed across the kitchen table, which doubled as a desk. Time to copy my work to a flash drive and send the as-good-as-it- would-get assignment to my CloudBox — a chunk of cyber-storage real estate dearly paid for. I yawned deep and stretched my legs. There wasn’t far to walk to the living area, which was mostly cushions, a bookshelf, and a low coffee table. Tucked in the corner was the gun safe. That was it. In the tiny adjoining bedroom sat my queen-size futon, taking up most of the floor space. ‘Tonight, for sure. It’s you and me, baby.’ Now I was talking to my bed. I reached the far wall, touched my toes and straightened to twist and crack my back. The apartment was on the ground floor of one of the few buildings around to survive the Big One. People also called it the ‘last quake’, but there had been plenty since, just not strong enough to split apart any more of the State. The initial repair efforts, in New LA County at least, deserved a medal, although having relief funding in the trillions helped. Who couldn’t make things as good as new, with that kind of backing? Fifteen years later the funding wasn’t so generous. It had dried up completely in Anaheim, for example. There was nothing there any more except capped fracking wells and an abandoned amusement park. Kinda sad. I’d heard Disneyland was amazing, once. Earthquakes will do that to a city, if that’s what really caused it. There were all kinds of conspiracy theories. One claimed a mob boss had nuked West LA, but that was ridiculous. As if they could’ve gotten their hands on a warhead back then. Besides, the fallout would have triggered major issues for half a millennium. I closed my eyes, running the equation. If there are N radioactive nuclei at some time t, then the number ∆N which would decay in any given time interval ∆t would be proportional to N. Not good odds, even for kingpins like Freeman or Rodriguez. Yeah, I knew who the underground bosses were. In my line of work, punters tossed their names around like volleyballs, usually attached to ugly-ass threats. I’d gotten a few of those in the last three years at Lucky’s. Show me a bouncer this side of town who hadn’t! I put on a fresh pot of coffee, and set a pot of water to boil. There were just enough steel-cut oats left in the box for a decent feed. ‘Tomorrow, shop!’ While the oats boiled, I got dressed. Easy job. There was only one pair of clean jeans in the drawer. The rest of my clothes were in the laundry basket, or piled on the floor. I dropped my shorts, pulled on the jeans, found my lucky sky-blue bra with dark satin stitching, a navy tank top and a pair of lapis earrings. Back in the kitchen I poured the last of the rice milk on my oats, drizzled a bit of honey from the spoon and ate it straight out of the pot. Merging with the hot oats aroma, I caught a whiff of my laundry. Bad. That had to be dealt with. Sleep, shop, laundry, I ticked off in my head. The things I hadn’t done, but must … soon. In the bathroom, I brushed my hair back into a ponytail, checked my phone for messages and swore. Time to go! It was a forty-five minute bus ride across town to the UCLA campus in Beverly Hills. I probably should have soaked the pot in the sink with the other dirty dishes, but … later.

* * *

Ten a.m. came with the expected physical signs: burning eyes, stiff neck, headache. Oh, boy. My palms were sweating as I walked to the podium, footsteps echoing through the virtually empty UCLA lecture hall. That was a plus. It lessened the potential for public humiliation. The only seats occupied were the front two rows. I squeezed my eyes shut a few times, trying to alleviate the sting … eye drops might have helped, along with fresh contacts. They were prescription, for my mixed astigmatism, a near–far sighted combo, and tinted to keep down the glare. I had partial colour blindness too, but that’s another story. Bottom line, sleep deprivation wasn’t a good look. Hopefully, the examiners would be glued to the screen, and my riveting presentation, not my tired face. It took a minute to password my way through security, log into my CloudBox — and bring up the visuals. I synched with the screen behind me and cleared my throat. ‘Good morning, faculty.’ My voice broke and I tried to humph without sounding like a cat coughing up a fur ball. This was not my favourite part of being fourth year: standing in front of a critical audience, my knowledge and abilities in question. Who in their right mind would want to try and explain auto-immune disorders to a group of scientists who knew hundreds of times more about the subject than anyone alive? The mic gave an ear-piercing screech as I adjusted it, which didn’t help to calm me down. The lights dimmed and the large screen illuminated. The glare was so strong, I couldn’t read the notes on my tablet. Perfect. I sucked in a deep breath, and ploughed on. ‘Since the first wave of the Aftermath, auto-immune disorders have escalated, not just here in LA, but globally. These diseases cross all borders, cultures and peoples, targeting young and old alike. The epidemiology is hard to trace, but at its core is a potentially fatal flaw …’ I choked on that. This topic got under my skin because I had one of those pesky flaws myself. At times like these, I could almost hear the clock ticking. I cleared my throat. ‘… a potentially fatal flaw in the evolution of the human genome. Constant bombardment from microwaves, radiation and carcinogenic substances has caused an abnormal gene expression, including the conditional deletion of the Bcl-x gene from red blood cells, which becomes apparent when the body loses its ability to tell the difference between self and non-self.’ I swiped the small screen on the podium, bringing up the next visual behind me. It showed a clip of a blood clot forming at 500x magnification, courtesy of APS — antiphospholipid antibody syndrome — in action. As I talked about causes and potential cures, moving on to my personal favourite, hemolytic anemia and its variants under the umbrella of AADD — Aftermath associated degenerative diseases — my eyes came back to one of the examiners. I’d never seen him before, which wasn’t uncommon. UCLA hosted the largest science campus in the western US, and specialists in the field were invited in to evaluate fourth year students, especially ones like me who hoped to land an internship with the LA branch of the CDC, the Centre for Disease Control. This guy looked too young though. Maybe an intern auditing my talk? Who are you? The thought floated through my head. Not a welcome distraction. Every time I looked, he was staring at me, his expression a cross between curious and accusatory. It raised the hairs on the back of my neck. Oh, hell! I had the freaking wrong slide up. I pulled my focus back to the presentation and kept my gaze well away from handsome mystery man in seat A15. Sure, it registered. Handsome. Not helping. Twenty minutes later, the lights went up and there was a brief, but slightly more than perfunctory, applause. On a scale of one to ten, for senior lecturers that was at least a nine, nearly a standing ovation. It made me smile, and in a momentary lapse, my eyes drifted back to seat A15. Big mistake. The floor was open to questions, and he took it as a personal invitation. ‘You mention the fatigue associated with auto-immune hepatitis. What test would differentiate auto-immune liver disease from other hepatic disorders?’ I swallowed hard, not because I didn’t have a damn good answer, but because his eyes were boring into me. Almond-shaped dark eyes. They had a wild look, or was that the unruly hair? It was like being on a witness stand, which I guess was the point of the exercise. He wasn’t coming across as an intern. His voice was too confident. I reviewed the role of typical histological findings in both AILD and other chronic liver diseases, finishing with a discussion of immunoglobulins and various triggers for immune response. He questioned again, and for a while, we had our own private ping-pong match going on. Then others had comments and questions for me and, while I engaged, out of the corner of my eye I saw him check his phone. He nodded vaguely in my direction and left. As he walked out of the hall, a lingering thought again floated through my head. Who are you? CHAPTER TWO

Afternoon light slanted between the tall buildings of North Grand Avenue, one of the plusher parts of the city. The bus pulled away as I walked past Grand Park, catching a bit of breeze from the open spaces. It still smelled predominantly of car exhaust and blistering hot pavement, but there was a hint of fresh-cut grass, newly watered. No shortage of funds in this district. The busy street turned to South Grand, leading toward my destination: Poseidon. I was still riding high on the general thumbs-up I got for my presentation, so I’d decided to roll the dice again, while feeling lucky. A job at this end of town could be just what my bank account needed. I walked beside shiny new skyscrapers sandwiched between the pre-Big One relics, and checked out people dressed in the trending threads. Some were rushing in and out of stores, others were hanging out on street-side espresso joints, tapping away on their cells and tablets. A rare few were engaged in some existential chit-chat, face to face. Not much litter clogged the gutters, and I saw no evidence of the growing homeless population. The LAPD kept things clean, in this part of town. I passed a few office buildings, an appliance store, a dress shop, and then paused at the bulletin board in front of the cinema. There weren’t many public boards like these around. Most information was spammed out by the gigabyte, delivered direct to your device, whether you wanted it or not. I liked this bulletin board. The handwritten messages were a kaleidoscope of flash-diaries, mini- entries, saying, ‘I want this,’ and ‘Do you want that?’ A gust of wind surged as a delivery truck roared by, ruffling the messages, making them strain against their pins. I hooded my eyes and closed my mouth until the grit stopped flying. The papers settled on the board and I read about cars for sale, rooms for rent, yoga, dating. ‘Hey, MMA! My martial arts academy,’ I said aloud. No one noticed. There was also a slew of missing persons. I winced when I saw a picture of Daina. She was a friend of a friend who’d vanished three weeks ago. Rumor had it someone was murdering coeds. This alone was enough argument for every man, woman and child to learn how to defend themselves. I looked away, searching until I found the recessed doors of Poseidon, the next building down. I went into security mode. The cinema entrance sat back from the sidewalk by a good twenty feet, but close to where Poseidon’s line- up would be, making containment a potential issue. Too much glass, and a nightmare between show times, especially on weekends. The parking meters and palm trees lining the street could create hazards for a crowd as well. This club needed a double loading zone. I’d be mentioning that first thing, if I landed the job. A few more steps and I stood in front of tall black doors. The only thing marking the club was an engraved trident overhead. Cute. The first knock went unanswered. I pounded harder and it swung open. ‘I’m Ava Sykes. I have an appointment.’ It wasn’t exactly true, but my experience in this kind of situation was to play it confident and doors opened, literally. A man in a black suit and tie, around my height, looked me up and down, mostly down. ‘He’s waiting for you.’ ‘Great.’ I had no idea who he was. Billy? The manager? My guide led the way into the foyer and down narrow stairs. I followed. Butterflies flirted under my ribs. I guess there was more riding on this interview than I’d realised. ‘You know, for a new club, you guys have some public liability issues to sort out. These stairs, for one, are set too steep and narrow. The ceiling’s too low, and I don’t know how you manage the line-up outside.’ My words came out staccato, punctuated by each step as we went lower and lower into the bowels of the building. ‘Not very well lit, either. No beading light?’ Stress let loose my officious critique mode. I blamed it on the Virgo star sign. He didn’t respond. Warm chap. When we finally reached the double doors at sub-ground level, he pushed through. The air hit me in the face. And then the acoustics … it felt instantly like a big space. Really big. I kept walking, right into another world. ‘Oh, wow.’ I had to pause. So this is what the buzz is about. It smelled clean, spacious, like open ocean air, and for good reason. The lower level dance floor could have housed a Boeing 747 with a space shuttle strapped to its back. The upstairs balconies overlooking it were at least six tables wide. It was done up like a Mississippi River steamboat, with chandeliers giving off vivid colours, possibly red and blue. To me they were green and navy. The red was just a guess, but I knew people liked contrast. The bar ran from one end of the far wall to the other, longer than a couple of back-to-back tenpin bowling lanes. The wall gleamed with rows of glasses sparkling on polished wood shelves. All that wasn’t the breath-stealer though. Not by a long shot. The entire back wall was a freaking floor to ceiling aquarium, flanked by mirrors, as if the place didn’t seem big enough already. This was Poseidon alright: king of the sea. There was sunken treasure, along with a tropical reef and little sharks. I tilted my head up, way up, taking in the frescos on the ceiling, a regular underwater Sistine Chapel. If I smelled a better paycheck last night, my nose hit the mother lode in here. What a joint. No wonder every girl, guy and their dogs were lining up half the night to get in. Cate had really underplayed the whole thing when she described it to me. So not like her. As my eyes came down the opposite wall, I spotted dance cages hanging from the ceiling. They were complete with manacles, as if made for slaves. Who in their politically right mind would want to go there? Way to creep out a class act. On ground level, there were booths lining the dance floor on three sides. My guide kept walking toward one. I lagged, trying to close my jaw, which had dropped when we walked through the doors. He turned. ‘Let’s not keep him waiting, shall we?’ ‘Let’s not.’ So what if the decor was a little eccentric, not to mention macabre? Dollar signs blocked my vision; the stress of making tuition was a chronic load on my shoulders and this job could vanquish it. I hurried to catch up, boots clipping across the floor. A hip-hop beat switched on, blasting from hidden speakers. Lights went up and a dance troupe rehearsed. Impressive. The men were topless, wearing only long black ‘skin-tights’. Nothing was left to the imagination. Not a single nook or cranny. The women were dressed the same, only in reverse, bare legs up to their G-string uncovered butts, and sequined, black halter tops. Not much support for the kinds of moves they were doing, for either gender. ‘This way,’ my guide said. It was taking some time to cross the floor; the room’s capacity must be over three thousand. No way were the entrance and stairs up to code for this size venue. Could there be another way in and out? I was going to ask about that as well. But all those ordered, Virgo thoughts vanished when I spotted the man in the booth. He was bent over his work, completely absorbed, until he noticed me. One look and my feet stopped dead. It was too soon. I hadn’t reached the booth, but my body wouldn’t move any closer. He was handsome, yeah. Cate would say a hottie, but it was more than that. I saw attractive men much of the time in my line of work. It gave me pretty good immunity to them. It struck me at once that this must be the owner, Daniel Bane. The way Cate talked, he was like a god with his rich- mahogany hair, hazel-blue eyes and a body that … well, promised a lot under the three-piece Armani. The only thing I could think was: He conducts the interviews? That can’t be right. Where’s the manager? ‘Ava Sykes?’ He put down his pen and stood, fitting Cate’s description. He was medium-tall, with broad shoulders and a dark complexion. Very good- looking, I reaffirmed. And rich. It wasn’t the suit, alligator loafers and white silk shirt alone that gave it away. He had a kind of elegance that oozed power. A total turn-on, I’ll admit. ‘I’m Daniel Bane. Glad to finally meet you.’ Finally? It hadn’t even been twenty- four hours since the invite from Billy. I breathed in, checking for anything that didn’t smell right. I had an acute sense of smell. That might sound amazing, like having a superpower, but most of the time it was a pain in the ass. Sure, some things were lovely, such as fresh strawberries, melting chocolate, and fine cologne on a man — exhibit A right in front of me. But other odours … damn. New LA wasn’t exactly a bouquet of heavenly scents, even without the smog, dumpsters and clogged sewers. As a kid, I’d learnt to keep my nose to myself. Pointing out that somebody needed to brush their teeth, or that a teacher’s clothes reeked of cigarettes, was not the best way to make friends. Problem was, certain scents were once major triggers for me. Fear, rage … blood. Of course, being a bouncer meant exposure to these very things, but I had learnt to get over it, to contain my reactions. With Daniel, all I caught from this distance was salt air, and a hint of the aforementioned fine cologne. He waved me over as if I wasn’t standing there halfway to rigor mortis. ‘I’ve been thinking of you.’ The look on his face was curious, reserved, like he had a lot of energy, and it was under complete control. What could he possibly be thinking about me? I was stumped by that, but managed to move forward. ‘Um … why?’ He opened his hand out, ignoring my question. ‘Please, sit.’ His voice was smooth and deep. ‘Thanks.’ Why is he thinking of me? I asked myself again. The cushion whooshed beneath my weight. His hand gently touched mine and the query vanished, no longer a concern. There was a fraction of a second where I felt a warning, but it melted like butter in the sun. This guy’s amazing. ‘So, Ava, tell me, where are you from?’ ‘Homegrown LA, pre-Big One.’ He cleared his throat and I could tell I’d given the wrong answer. ‘No, I mean, where are you from, originally?’ Huh? ‘Let me put it this way, how long have you been here?’ What part of homegrown did he not understand? ‘Born here,’ I said slowly, ‘in LA, all twenty-four years of my life.’ He pressed his lips together. ‘Good. Well done.’ The whole exchange had me lost and so did looking into those hazel-blue eyes. This close, I could see flecks of violet. ‘You’re an undergraduate? UCLA?’ ‘How …’ ‘Don’t be surprised, Ava. We run background checks on potential employees.’ This — including Billy’s initial approach — had to be Cate’s doing. I made a mental note to thank her. Except a background check was not on my top ten list of favourite things. I wasn’t worried though. Working security for Daniel Bane? How could it get better than that? ‘Drink?’ he asked. I caught a whiff of Scotch and frowned. At four in the afternoon? ‘No, thank you.’ ‘Of course,’ he said as if just remembering, ‘you’ll be starting tonight.’ It wasn’t a question. ‘Wow. Thanks.’ I’d miss out on the scheduled full night’s sleep, but suddenly I didn’t feel the least bit tired. ‘If you’re worried about your old job, don’t be.’ I’d forgotten about it completely, which was weird. Maybe I should muster up a little more concern. ‘My loyalties to Lucky Lounge are …’ ‘Admirable,’ he cut in. ‘I was going to say flexible. I’m part-time.’ ‘No-time, at this point. Lucky Lounge shut down today, license suspended for a month.’ That was gonna hurt. ‘Guess I’m out of a job.’ I felt a smile creep over my face. ‘We’d like to take you on trial here.’ One door closes, another opens. ‘Is that a trial with full pay?’ I’d heard of trials that went on forever, at slave wages. ‘This may encourage you.’ Daniel wrote a figure on a piece of paper. He folded it in half and slid it across the smooth tabletop. How formal was this guy? I opened the note. Just what I thought, slave wages. ‘This much per shift isn’t …’ ‘Per hour.’ ‘Oh … that’s good then.’ I unleashed the smile completely. Top dollar in my industry. He tapped the note with a long, manicured finger. ‘With six- to eight- hour shifts, three nights a week. Will that work for you?’ ‘Awesome!’ Okay, in this moment, sophisticated I was not, but my financial worries had lightened up on the spot. This would cover rent, and make up for the shortfall I owed on my tuition. I guess a place this upmarket could afford top wages. I knew Cate made a bundle, even without tips. He chuckled, his eyes sparkling. ‘Can you be back here at nine?’ Daniel took my giddy expression and head nodding for a yes. ‘Jason, head of security, will show you the ropes. You can report to him.’ He looked at his Rolex. ‘I’ll walk you up.’ ‘Terrific. Thanks.’ Daniel leaned toward me and said something light and playful, which didn’t register. I was suddenly too preoccupied to compute his words, thinking either the guy ate raw meat for lunch, or … I laughed inwardly. He probably had just been to the dentist. How else would he have the scent of blood on his breath? ‘Thank you.’ Great. Now I was repeating myself. ‘It’s good to have you on board,’ Daniel went on, oblivious to my inner dialogue, though his expression did look a little perplexed. I nodded, repressing the urge to keep thanking him. In this business, it was best not to come across as a complete suck-up. I stood, and he was beside me in one graceful movement. The walk across the floor dazed me; the music pounding, dancers gyrating and the cages lit up in bright lights. I’d gone from employed to unemployed to well- employed in one second flat. Hard to believe. If I’d not been somewhat self- conscious, I might have whooped aloud. But Daniel seemed a reserved kind of guy and, for some inexplicable reason, that mattered to me. Before I knew it, we were up at the foyer, my hand captured inside both of his. ‘I’ll check on you later tonight, but you have my personal number.’ He pulled out a card and tucked it in my hand. ‘Call me any time.’ I ran my thumb over the surface of the card. The writing was fine and slightly raised. This wasn’t a sleazy come-on. The man genuinely cared. He released my hand, waiting, as if I was meant to say more. ‘I really appreciate the job.’ ‘See you tonight.’ With that, he retreated downstairs. The black suit stepped up to open the door and usher me out. It closed behind my back in a soft whoosh. I stood for a moment, the world muted, euphoria twirling around me like a candyfloss machine picking up threads of my mind and weaving them into a bundle of juicy sweet sugar. I headed down the street, revelling, but with every step I took, the traffic became louder, people pressed in, hurrying past, horns honked, exhaust thickened. I came back to myself. ‘What the hell just happened?’ I said aloud. Cate was right. There was definitely something odd about my new boss, Daniel Bane. Mesmerising? I relived the interview, the things I’d said, the questions unasked. I didn’t even bring up the safety regulations on street level. ‘Ava Sykes, I believe you have been wowed.’ That was so not me, but I couldn’t muster the energy to worry about it — also not like me and my analytical, detail loving Virgo mind. Cate wouldn’t steer me wrong, but I would have to watch myself around Daniel Bane. No hanky-panky. He had allure, but I had rules, and I kept them. I hadn’t seen Cate in over a week, but it had to be her who’d talked me up and pulled strings to land me a personal interview with the owner. It wasn’t like they headhunted bouncers, did they? I squirmed for a moment, thinking about the background check. Obviously, it hadn’t raised suspicions, and why would it? It had been watertight for years. Relax and enjoy the moment, already. Better yet, share the moment. I dug out my phone and dictated a text to Cate, avoiding cars while jaywalking to the bus stop on North Grand. By the time I said, ‘Send,’ the bus was pulling up, on its way to Huntington Park and beyond. I slid into a front seat and set my phone alarm. If I’d learnt anything as a student working nights, it was how to catnap, any time, anywhere. My eyes shut and that was it.

* * * Dusk was falling twenty-five minutes later, turning one of the few trees on the block to gold. It was a yellow-leafed maple, bang in front of my kitchen window. Handy too. Its leaf colour was the main way to tell the seasons were changing. I trotted up the steps to the apartment building and caught a familiar fragrance. I knew what it meant. Cate at my door. I’d recognise her perfume anywhere. I also picked up the scent of green onions, mushrooms and basil along with a faint paper bag smell. She’d shopped. Damn, I knew I’d forgotten something. My mouth watered as I swiped my card, punched the code and buzzed myself in. Sure enough, standing in the hall was Cate, but her posture told me instantly she wasn’t here to celebrate my new job. Her body language spelled trouble with Joey, the on-again off-again asswipe boyfriend. I did have my psychic moments, but this was purely visual. Her duffle bag and backpack gave it away, along with the tears. I swiped the lock and let us both in. Cate dropped her duffel bag by the door and turned tear swollen eyes my way. ‘Mrs Beal let me in. She said it wasn’t safe out there.’ ‘She’s probably right.’ Cate nodded, trying not to lose it. She was an exotic-looking woman, with high cheekbones, coffee skin, and honey- brown kinky-curly hair. Beautiful, though mascara streaked her cheeks. Her full lips turned down in a quivering frown. I gave her a tissue, and a half hug, patting her back lightly before stepping away. Yeah, we were close friends, but my comfort level with PDAs was not high. Sure, I rolled with guys and gals at the academy, no problem, but if emotions were involved … I guess I had some intimacy issues. ‘You and Joey?’ I asked. ‘We broke up.’ The cheer in my throat stayed down like a well-trained dog. Best news ever, if she really was done with that guy. ‘Need a place to crash?’ She nodded, tightening her grip on the groceries. ‘I’ll cook.’ ‘Perfect. I’m starting a new job tonight.’ I tried to keep a straight face. The sadness lifted from her briefly. ‘Poseidon?’ ‘You have something to do with that?’ She shrugged, then gave a bit of a smile. ‘Thanks.’ I play-punched her arm. ‘Lucky’s off the grid for a month. Good timing.’ ‘Told ya.’ She waited a moment. ‘And …?’ ‘The money is good.’ She nodded. Cate had been raking it in, but they couldn’t pay me enough to do her job — dressing as a siren, waiting on ‘special customers’. I’d be more likely to smack them in the face if they glanced at me sideways. I had a lot of respect for what she did, what she was willing to tolerate to pay for her psych degree. She’d put that on hold though, when Joey re-entered the picture. I’d been meaning to talk to her about that. ‘And?’ she asked after blowing her nose. I gave in. ‘Yeah, Daniel Bane’s something else, I’ll admit.’ The thought of his number returned. ‘Does he hand out his private line to every employee?’ ‘Not all of them.’ She winked. ‘Don’t you just love him?’ Love was way too strong a word for me, but I didn’t pop her bubblegum. ‘Come on, Ava. You haven’t had anyone serious since Tom.’ ‘And Bane’s the answer?’ ‘You never will if you aren’t open.’ ‘It’s a little inappropriate, the private number, call me any time line.’ Cate pulled her electric hair up to the top of her head and trapped it with a fluoro band. ‘A guy’s gotta try.’ I laughed, and she did too. Good medicine. ‘You on tonight? We can go in together.’ The corners of her mouth turned down again. ‘Joey used to drive me.’ ‘Lifts are overrated. No bus lane.’ I gave her another hug, not sure what else to say. Cate made herself busy in the kitchenette, pulling out the frying pan and chopping board. Her brows went up as she pointed to the encrusted oatmeal pot on the stovetop. ‘It’s been a big day.’ I went to scrub it clean, standing shoulder to shoulder with her as she diced and sliced. It was a small kitchen. ‘Tell me what happened.’ This time. The sooner she spilled on the whole relationship-gone- south story, the better. ‘You know he works in advertising, right?’ ‘Surrounded by hot supermodels? Yeah, you mentioned.’ ‘I guess he couldn’t resist the temptation.’ Asshole. She launched into her story and in no time was dishing me up dinner. I salted my food, wondering if it would be insensitive to dig straight in. It smelled amazing. ‘Go on. I can tell you’re starving.’ Cate only picked at her serving, but by the time I was working on round two of the best mushroom pesto linguine in the universe, she had purged. She even moved from victim mode to outrage, and that was a step up on the emotional scale, in my book anyway. I took a third serving; with a lifestyle like mine, which included martial arts training on my nights off, I loaded up on carbs whenever I could. After doing the dishes — Cate wasn’t one to leave a spoon out of place — I had a quick shower, leaving enough hot water for her. While she dressed in her ‘uniform,’ which consisted of very little other than ocean green glitter and coconuts, I opened the gun safe and slipped my Ruger 9 mm into my calf holster and smoothed down my jeans. I was licensed to carry, and I always did at work, more for the trip there and back than anything else. New LA wasn’t really a city of angels, not good ones anyway. Cate threw on a light coat and we headed out of the apartment for the bus. I looked up and down the street, frowning. Something had prickled my skin. ‘Joey won’t come here, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s scared of you.’ Good. And speaking of scared. ‘Is there news on Daina?’ Daina was our mutual acquaintance, the most recent coed to go missing during a wave of unexplained murders, as described in the press. Cate sighed. ‘Nothing.’ The bus pulled up as we arrived at the stop. ‘Do you think she’s alive?’ I shrugged. ‘We can hope.’ CHAPTER THREE

Cate and I chatted, mostly about Joey’s failings, until we stepped off the bus at North Grand Avenue. The night buzzed, lights glared and the streets smelled of smog, fast food and the day’s remaining heat. The vibe around the doors into Poseidon had come alive. Night can do that to a place. Billy and a hammer-of-a- guy let us in. I straightened my shoulders, about to ask for Jason, but Cate grabbed my arm and led me to the elevator. ‘This way.’ Great. I hated these things, especially going down. Inside, there was no schmaltzy muzak, at least, just a panel labelled UP, DOWN and VIP. Cate pressed to go down, and the thing rumbled into action, every clink and groan of the cables sounding loud and clear. The smells were intense in such a confined space … stale booze, disinfectant, the usual. It was a quick ride. The doors opened to a subterranean corridor on level with the main dance floor. Even though it was early, by nightlife standards, music blared through the wall. The reverberation always rattled me. That’s why I preferred working the entrance, but at this pay rate, I wasn’t going to be picky. ‘You’ll find Jason in there.’ She nodded at a door marked office. ‘I’m not off until three. You?’ ‘One, I think. Will you find a lift back to mine?’ ‘No problem.’ She smiled half- heartedly. I pulled a spare card to the apartment out of my pack and handed it over. ‘Building door code is 2419.’ ‘Your age and the age you look. Got it.’ I laughed. ‘Call me on your break.’ ‘Will do. Don’t let them give you any shit, Ava.’ She shrugged out of her coat and disappeared into a room marked Staff. I stood in front of the office door and knocked. ‘It’s open.’ I pushed in, mustering bravado. There was always a bit of testing to contend with in a new job, and in my case it usually meant my ass was thrown into tricky situations, like putting me in the middle of punch-ups and gauging how I handled the big-sized clientele. If I showed them my confident but not too arrogant side, maybe we could forgo some of that. ‘I’m Ava Sykes.’ It was a large room, with an office set-up at one end, lockers, crates and storage at the other. Bare light bulbs hung from the ceiling, like they hadn’t quite finished the construction here. Around the desk were three hefty guys. ‘Mr Bane told me you were on.’ The man in the middle of the powwow stood up and extended his hand. ‘Jason, head of security. This is Raphael, and Jones.’ He pointed to the dudes, left and right. I reached for Jason’s hand. It was a quick, hard shake. ‘Glad to have you,’ he said. It was a weird thing to say, because most guys weren’t glad until I proved myself. It was impossible to tell Jason’s eye colour, or sincerity, though. He wore shades; they all did. I blinked. It wasn’t that bright in here. Please don’t be a bunch of crackheads. I wanted the job to last, at least for the month, and I knew I wouldn’t stay if the staff were that bent. ‘Find a shirt that fits.’ He pointed toward the lockers behind me. ‘The rest of your gear will do.’ I’d worn black jeans and my steel-toed Tims. Jason opened a drawer and pulled out a headset, checking the battery. ‘Keep valuables in the lockers, if you have to. Best not to bring them.’ He handed me the headset. ‘Do you carry?’ I nodded and turned my ankle to show him the Ruger. ‘Good.’ That was it? ‘Aren’t there forms to fill out?’ Jason shook his head. The three went back to work, which consisted of piling large stacks of money on the table and tapping calculators. Apparently, the Federal Tax Department wasn’t an issue. I went through the shirts and found a men’s XS tee, black with a little white trident logo on the pocket, just like the symbol over the doors. I pulled off my tank top, revealing a well-worn sports bra underneath. Jason didn’t look up. The other two did. I slipped on my Poseidon shirt fast, secured my earphone and hung my top on a hook. Jason rose from the table and led me out the door. He wasn’t big on conversation, but he did point out the staff lounge down the hall, the doors to the main floor, and the staff restrooms. Back in the elevator, the proximity to the man distracted me. In the confined space, his scent was industrial strength. It wasn’t foul, as in bad hygiene, but it had a repulsive musky undertone. Most people would probably never notice, or might even consider it sexy. To me, it was nauseating. I felt pure relief when the elevator dinged and opened up on street level. We went straight out the door, the line now past the cinema. The scent of musk vanished from my nose, overtaken by exhaust fumes and the warm LA night. Who would have thought that would be an improvement? ‘Billy,’ Jason called him over. ‘Ava’s with you tonight.’ Billy clicked his tongue. ‘That’s good news.’ I’d straighten out any misconceptions he might have about the word ‘with,’ but it wasn’t really a problem. I had that one down pat. It was a relief he seemed to accept me straight up. In my three years at this job, I’d never heard of another woman in the business. This was a male dominated gig, for the obvious reasons. ‘Fill her in.’ Jason ran his eyes over the crowd then went back without saying more. ‘So …’ Billy drew out the sound. ‘What’s a girl like you doing in a job like this?’ I gave him my ‘strictly professional’ face and waited for him to try again. My first rule, no banter, flirting or fraternising on the job. ‘Fine. I can play straight.’ He tilted his head, short sandy hair brushing the top of his shades. ‘We’re relieved twice a night for twenty minutes. Staff room is opposite the office, next to the elevator.’ I nodded. ‘Saw it.’ ‘The vending machine’s okay, or you can order ahead from the kitchens, ten percent off.’ He laughed. ‘Most bring their own, but no drinking on duty.’ ‘Of course.’ As far as food went, this was the kind of place that sold a bowl of fries and ketchup for forty-five bucks a pop. I’d be packing my own chow from now on. ‘If the line goes past the cinema, we call for backup, but you’ll be on with me all night, till you get the hang of it. We have regulars that are let through, no waiting … you’ll need to remember names and faces fast. They don’t like it if you don’t.’ He handed me the door list. There were only fifteen names. I glanced at them briefly and nodded. Billy looked at me for a moment and then said, ‘Really?’ I repeated the names back to him, in alphabetical order. ‘Wow. Good trick.’ He smiled. It made him look pretty cute. As I thought it, he smiled brighter, which was weird. ‘Questions?’ ‘One. What’s with the shades? Part of our dress code?’ ‘You’re kidding, right?’ He tilted his head toward a carload of intoxicated girls spilling onto the sidewalk. ‘I’ll handle them. You stay on the door. Don’t screw up.’ I crossed my arms. ‘Not planning on it.’

* * *

By midnight, I was on my second break, eating a pack of non-GMO trail mix and gulping ‘pure’ water. Not a bad night, all things considered. The upstairs crowd wasn’t too much trouble, the night air warm and dry, and the movie theatre spillover not as bad as I thought it would be, even with a blockbuster playing. Only one belligerent drunk threatened to sue me after I used a double-leg takedown on him. One more hour of this and my head would hit the pillow. I wondered how Cate was doing. I hadn’t seen her since we bussed in together. As I crunched on my snack, giving myself a ‘nearly there’ pep talk, three women dressed a lot like Cate, sea- green G-strings and tiny scallop shells over each nipple, came in. They were in their early twenties, medium height, bleached-blonde hair extensions down to their glittered-up belly buttons, and built like Barbie dolls. If I wanted their job, no way would I land it; too lithe, too brunette, too average-sized boobs. I gave them a half smile and waved. ‘How’s work going tonight?’ It was like I’d opened Pandora’s box. There was this man and that chat, and a bit of a hook-up here and a huge tip there. Something about getting in downstairs where they could really make the cash. ‘It was so amazing. You know what I mean? He told me I had a chance,’ the woman closest to me said. ‘Great.’ Pretty sure she was talking about a promotion. ‘Ava. Do a sweep of the restrooms on your way up.’ Billy’s voice sounded in my earphone. I trashed my wrapper and waved goodbye to the blondes. ‘What am I looking for?’ ‘Young punk in a blue silk shirt. If you find him, bring him to me.’ ‘On it.’ The wall clock told me I still had five minutes, but I was happy to run a check of the floor before going up, like I used to do at Lucky’s. That had me thinking of my co-worker Jeff. Maybe I could put in a word. I would hate it if he was out of a job, especially while I was making this kind of dough. The hall was empty, so I headed to the ladies room first. It was a large, black and white tiled, twelve-stalled room with huge, gold-veined mirrors, full of scents — mostly cleaning products and perfume, some drugs. Interesting, as these were for staff only. I checked every stall, used the closest one, washed my hands and moved on. The men’s had a few guys at the urinal, no blue silk shirts. The hallway was still empty, so I went past the elevator. Jason’s office had the usual money counters at work, that was it. I nodded to him and kept going. At the end of the hall, I pushed through the double doors and walked the short distance to the next set marked as a staff entrance. I cracked the door to have a peek, but the music knocked me back. Lights flashed as if filtered through an eggbeater on high speed. A sea of people undulated on the dance floor to techno- house beats. The balcony tables were full, and as my eye scanned upward I caught the slave cages, rocked by near naked dancers in chains. I locked onto the closest one, my mouth falling open. Cate? I knew she had moves, but … the security guards either side of the door turned to me, expressionless. I backed out, letting go of the door. It closed like an exhale, leaving me alone in the relatively silent hall. ‘He’s not down here, Billy.’ I spoke into my headset on the way to the elevator. ‘Right. Come on up.’ In the elevator, my fingers hovered over the console. There was a dark smudge on the button below UP that hadn’t been there before. Without thinking, I swiped it, bringing my finger to my nose. Blood? As I did, the elevator kicked in. It took me a second to realise it was heading down. What the hell? I hadn’t even pressed the damn thing. I hit the UP button several times, but nothing happened. I was definitely going down. The lights went from white to deep- green as the elevator descended. A moment later, it stopped. The bell dinged and the doors slid open. Noise hit like a tidal wave. The visuals were a blur, my senses bombarded. I stood, stock-still, as the undeniable smell of blood, laced with fear and aggression, rushed up my nose. A gasp forced its way out of my throat and I slammed my hand over the UP button, hard enough to crack the console. The doors remained open. I flattened myself against the side of the wall, unable to blink, or tear my eyes away. It was a ghoul’s carnival, a page right out of Hieronymus Bosch. Run! The command coursed through my body, but there was nowhere to go. I jabbed the UP button. Nothing. The music bounced off the walls. Amid blue lights and flashing strobes, naked bodies danced, gyrating to the rhythmic beats, but that’s where any similarity with upstairs ended. People’s faces were streaked, dark liquid dripping down their chins, and throats. Around the walls, victims hung from chains. People? Mannequins? I saw some move, struggling against the restraint. The far wall was taken up entirely with the floor to ceiling aquarium. It must run right up to the club level, but … this was different. The unearthly waters teemed with sharks, in a wild frenzy as they fed on chunks of flesh and bone. What were they feeding them? The bodies on the wall? Some of the chained victims looked dead, some not; all dripped blood. It flowed down their limbs into crystal goblets. My heart pounded, a sledgehammer in my chest. As the doors slowly closed enough to block most of my view, I thought I would escape unnoticed. Then a man’s head turned, eyes looking straight at mine. The security guard’s name was Raphael. I’d met him earlier, in Jason’s office, when they’d been counting out the dough. He’d seemed nice enough … until now. Nothing was very pleasant in this moment. He tapped his earpiece and started toward me. My thumb nearly broke as I rammed it into the UP button. Run! Run! Run! I thought my heart would explode. The doors had a fraction to go when his hand thrust between them. A second later he wrenched the elevator open with alarming strength. I reached for my Ruger, but stopped short. Calm down! Bile rushed up the back of my throat as he stepped in. I wasn’t crazy enough to fire my weapon in an elevator, especially not the first night on the job. The doors closed behind him, trapping us both. ‘Ava Sykes, is it?’ he asked, sounding more amused than anything. I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. ‘Press the wrong button?’ His brows went up. ‘Billy didn’t say to check down here.’ He laughed and hit the UP button once, while frowning at the cracked console. ‘My mistake,’ I choked out, trying to steady my breathing. He looked straight ahead and took the at-ease stance in front of the door, facing me. ‘How’s it up top?’ Was he going to chit-chat before he … before he what? ‘All fine.’ I tried not to squeak. ‘I’d better get back.’ ‘We’ll talk to Jason first.’ I started hyperventilating. Raphael touched his earphone, glancing at me before speaking into the mic. ‘I found Ava in the basement.’ He laughed, like tumbling lava rocks. Big guy; deep voice. I could hear Jason’s response easy enough in my own headset. Open channel. Take over upstairs. I’ll deal with it. ‘Right, boss.’ He tapped the earpiece again, listened, then said, ‘Be there in a sec.’ Jason wasn’t sounding in my headset any more, so either they were on a different frequency, or I’d been shut out. Fast work. The elevator was nearing the club floor, the lights going from green back to white. The glare stung my eyes. Raphael pulled out his shades and put them on. I sucked in my breath and went to plan B. I always had a plan B. ‘So, Raph …’ I stepped closer. Damn, the guy was built like a brick shithouse. ‘When do I start work down there?’ My hand went to his chest. He was four times wider than me at the shoulder, but not more than a few inches taller. ‘Looks like that’s where the fun is, and the money.’ I must have sounded believable because he leaned in, taking the bait. I would have made a crack about men being easy, if I hadn’t been scared shitless. ‘I could put in a word for you, but first, tell me your secret, Ava.’ That stumped me. ‘What secret?’ ‘The guys have a poll going.’ I had no idea what he was talking about, but by now I was whispering in his ear. ‘Let’s go and I’ll show you.’ My hand slid from his chest up to the back of his neck. I hoped he took the trembling in my fingers for excitement, not abject fear. My plan was to knee him in the face the minute the elevator stopped, and then run like hell. ‘I wish.’ He pulled my arms down, pinning them to my sides. The bell dinged and doors opened. Advantage lost. He clamped my elbow and guided me to Jason’s office. ‘Maybe later,’ he whispered. Great. If I survived Jason, I’d have Raphael to deal with. ‘Never mind. Moment’s passed.’ ‘We’ll see.’ He knocked on the door and Jason opened it. ‘Sykes.’ He exhaled like this was the last thing he wanted to deal with. ‘You trying to make things difficult?’ I stumbled into the room, nudged from behind by Raph. I had sweaty palms, shaky hands. Pretty sure my nostrils were flared, still catching those floating molecules of blood. ‘Sit.’ I sat on the edge of the chair, trying not to make it obvious I was scanning for escape routes. As far as I could see, the only way out was the door behind me. Jason took off his baseball cap and sat on the other side of the desk. He was in his early forties, medium height, buzz cut, and built like a weightlifter. A big one. He steepled his fingers. ‘What’d ya see, Sykes?’ Death, murder, torture, mayhem. A lot of blood dripping down limbs. ‘Nothing. The doors opened, and I knew I’d made a wrong turn.’ Horror film wrong. ‘I was focussed on the UP button. Sorry, but I might have cracked the casing.’ ‘Don’t care about that. Do care about the “torture, murder, mayhem” part.’ I swallowed hard as bile rose. ‘Pardon?’ I knew I hadn’t said that aloud. He ignored me and picked up the phone. ‘Mr Bane. Our new girl had a little peek at VIP.’ I didn’t miss the apologetic tone Jason took. Yeah, the big boss wasn’t going to be happy, dealing with this. Jason hung up and turned back to me. ‘He’s coming. Won’t be a moment.’ CHAPTER FOUR

This would be a record hire and fire. I’d been working here less than five hours. But would they just fire me, and let me go … or? Jason looked smug. Whatever was going to happen next, he seemed pleased about it. Shit! It had been too good to be true. I should’ve done more research before signing on to guard a freaking orgy-soaked bloodbath in the basement. What. The. Fucking. Fuck? I didn’t give a damn about the sex part. A person could get off however they pleased, provided it was consensual, safety words in place. But shackling bodies to the rafters and bleeding them like some prized buck — nuh-uh. Oh, hell no. I wasn’t up for that, whether it was some perved-out foreplay or not. I was sweating buckets by the time Daniel arrived. He swept into the room, total grace and poise. ‘Thanks, Jason.’ He waved him away. If Jason was miffed about the dismissal, he didn’t let it show. Cap back on his head, he walked out the door, closing it behind him. The room went dead silent. Daniel took his place in the chair behind the desk. Somehow, he managed to look like he was sitting on a throne. ‘Tell me what happened.’ He showed almost no sign of concern. His blasé approach was terrifying, because I knew he would be very concerned. Wouldn’t he? My head was swimming. And I thought the most dangerous thing about the job would be cinema overflow … Daniel chuckled. ‘Did you see the floorshow?’ Huh? ‘VIP, what we call “the basement”. It’s host to our most elaborate entertainment.’ ‘You call that entertainment?’ ‘Ava, my dear, we mustn’t judge.’ To the contrary, Virgo here. We must. ‘People are being slaughtered.’ He looked at me as if trying to work something out. Finally, he said, ‘It’s not real.’ No way. ‘I smelled it.’ ‘Pheromones.’ ‘What about them?’ ‘They’re used to excite clients on an unconscious level. To you, they would smell like blood.’ I didn’t remember telling him about my supreme sense of smell, but I didn’t start there. ‘What do you mean, clients?’ ‘Our VIP clientele are exclusive, most paying ten thousand an hour for the illusions that … match their desires — bondage, S&M, BDSM.’ ‘Stop.’ There’s a safety word for you. ‘You’re telling me people pay that kind of dough to be chained to a wall and …’ My throat had gone dry. Daniel Bane rose and went to the water cooler. He filled a cup and brought it to me. ‘If things work out, you could find yourself handling VIP security. It would be quite a step up.’ Try a step down. I chugged the water and licked my lips. Was he bribing me? I tasted salt. ‘Ava, I assure you, what goes on in VIP, it’s perfectly safe. No one’s held against their will. We have a medical team in the back, if something goes too far.’ He beamed me a smile, proud of himself. ‘We haven’t lost anyone yet.’ He took off his shades. Intense hazel-blue eyes pinned me to my seat. ‘I’m sorry you had a shock, but we do cater for an extreme demographic.’ I wondered where he was on that map. Daniel kept up the gaze, waiting for me to respond. I was too numb. Finally, he stood. ‘Myself, I am more, shall we say, traditional. I take it you are, too?’ Were we talking about sexual preferences? No way. The sweat went clammy on my skin. ‘You’re upset, Ava.’ He spoke as if I were a child. ‘I want you to take the rest of the night off. You can collect your pay.’ ‘I’m fired?’ Relief and anxiety competed for space in my brain. ‘Of course not. You’re just starting out with us.’ He came around the side of the desk and put his arm over my shoulders. I stiffened and he calmly let go. ‘You’ve seen these, haven’t you?’ He pulled a flyer from a folder on the desk and handed it to me. It was slick, eye- catching and would have cost a mint to produce. ‘It’s all part of the experience.’ Boy was it ever. There in glossy black and white, with a splash of green that no doubt was bright blood red to most people’s eyes, were the victims chained to the wall and the dominants engaged in various acts of … whoa, they really do that shit? I handed the flyer back, unable to meet his gaze. ‘Keep it.’ Daniel brushed lint off his sleeve. ‘I’ll send Jason in to organise your pay. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’ Before I replied, the shades were back on and he was out the door.

* * *

I didn’t sit by myself for long. Jason appeared a minute later, looking a little less smug. Following him were two other security men, each carrying large moneybags. Yeah, it was the post-digital age. Many clubs were cash only now, with the new IDT protection in place. It was a complex law, but it kept identity theft down to a rumble. I didn’t pretend to understand all the ins and outs, but the upshot was that if an establishment took funds via an appropriated ID, they were as liable as the crooks. The big backfire was that most clubs only dealt in cash now, unless the customer submitted to an elaborate background check and DNA scan. I wondered how well they screened the clientele in VIP. My brain stuck on the haunting images. I needed to clear my head. ‘We’re about to start the sort.’ Jason assumed I knew what that meant, and I did. Lucky’s did one every night, though Poseidon had a much bigger table for the process. My eyes bugged out as they dumped piles of cash and started counting. They stacked the bills faster than any bank teller I’d ever seen. These guys knew their job. While I stood there, still numbed from my little wrong turn, Jason counted out c-notes, five one hundred dollar bills. He tapped the money on the table, and handed it over, crisp and clean, though clean had a multitude of meanings. I wasn’t sure which one applied. ‘Thanks.’ The jitters hadn’t stopped. I retrieved my pack and zipped the money into the side pocket. My shirt went into the dirty laundry chute, headset in the tray. My tank top back on, I nodded to the guys. They didn’t look up, which was a good thing. My body seemed to be on the verge of falling apart. ‘Nine o’clock start on Friday night,’ Jason said, while picking up the phone. ‘I’ll be here.’ The words sounded without my consent. My legs felt like they would buckle on the way to the elevator and it took me a moment before I could press UP. The console was badly cracked. I wondered if that would come out of my pay. Billy was on the front door, no sign of Raph. What a relief … I wouldn’t have to deal with him. ‘I’m off, Billy.’ He tilted his head up the street. ‘No bus for half an hour.’ I could be halfway home by then. ‘Walking. See you Friday.’ I set out, south on Grand, my mind a whirl. Everyone responds differently to fear. Some freeze. Some jabber like monkeys. Some lash out. Me? Throw fear my way, and I’d reach for my Ruger, flip off the safety, eyes alert, senses heightened. Steady. Ready. No panic. But not tonight. The floorshow had changed my usual MO. What can I say? The fight or flight response is a complex and delicate systemic reaction, and right now, it had me power walking down the street, as fast as my legs could take me. A few blocks later, the inner city buzz quieted down. Traffic thinned and streetlights grew further apart. The air felt oppressive, smog taint burning my throat. Everyone prayed for rain, like that was likely. The coast hadn’t seen El Niño since before I was born. It was a desert city, dry as old bones. Even water access was still a problem since the Aftermath took out half the mains. I kept walking. Tall buildings morphed into looming shadows. Neon signs buzzed overhead, casting incandescent light, making my hands ghost blue. Pedestrians were few and far between. My phone buzzed, and I jumped out of my skin. ‘Pull it together, Sykes,’ I said to myself. It would be Cate on her break, wondering where the frigging hell I was. Before I could reach into my pack and answer, three drunk kids staggered out of the alley. One boy wolf whistled. I kept moving, and gave him a look that said piss off. They didn’t follow. The flyer for VIP Lounge was still in my hand. VIP: Poseidon’s deepest realm … where every fantasy comes to life. Life? It looked more like death to me. I rubbed my thumb over the glossy finish, tilting it under the flickering streetlight, ignoring the buzz of faulty electronics. I could barely make out the fine print, but there was a number to call for interviews. Not just anybody could buy a ticket to VIP, even if they had the cash. The next thing I knew, my knees hit the ground. Someone slammed me into the pavement. Flat on my side, I saw boots winding up for a kick. As I tried to roll away, a man grabbed my shoulder. He jerked me to my feet and hit me with three quick right hooks. White light flared behind my eyes and I fell to the ground again. Pain cut through me as something cinched around my wrist. My hand tingled like it was shoved into a bucket of ice water. The musk of aggression and lust rushed up my nose as I sucked in a breath. It turned into a gasp as the guy laid into me with his boots. After the third kick, my head cleared enough for a desperate move. I was in fetal position, my forearms taking the brunt of the blows. Before his next strike landed, I bridged to my palms and flipped straight to my feet. Flight over fight in full control, I ran for it, the perp dead on my heels. A block later I was still in the lead. Would it last? I ran a fast sprint, but couldn’t keep it up all the way home. Besides, that would bring the maniac straight to my doorstep. Too bad I couldn’t have Rourke there waiting, cuffs in hand. No time to reach for my phone. I scanned the alleyways and took the first one that wasn’t dead-ending any time soon. Halfway down it, I risked another look behind. Nothing. I ducked into the shadow of a doorway, checking to see if he would keep going down the main street. No such luck. Without hesitation, the guy turned into the alley. I tried to get a look at his features when a shot went over my head. He wasn’t messing around. I unclipped my Ruger and somersaulted to land behind a dumpster. It put me in a siege position, but he kept firing, so not much else I could do. I looked up, scanning my options. Yeah, an airlift rescue probably wasn’t on the cards. I pulled out my phone and called Rourke. ‘I’m sorry. The phone you are trying to reach is switched off or out of service. Wait for the signal to leave a message.’ Perfect … ‘Oh, sweetheart?’ my attacker’s voice called out, taunting. ‘What’re you running from?’ I’m running from the psycho- stalker, what do you think? ‘Sweet …’ Bang-bang. ‘Heart …’ He punctuated his words with rounds from his handgun. What an idiot. Did he want to attract the cops? ‘Come out and play.’ He elongated the word play in a singsong voice. Creepy, much? I crouched behind another dumpster, covered in sweat, sucking in deep breaths. He kept up the taunts, giving away his position. Could he be more confident? Gunfire ricocheted off the metal garbage bin. I counted to three, leaned around the edge for a quick check. No one was there, but shots rained in and I slammed back. Peeking through a crack between the lid and the rim, I saw him heading toward me, kicking huge garbage cans out of his way as if they were styrofoam cups. He was ridiculously strong, and crazy. He picked up a full-size industrial bin, lifted it over his head and heaved. No frigging way! The sound of screeching metal as it skidded down the lane made me cringe. What I saw … it was impossible. ‘Sweet … heart.’ Again, the singsong voice. ‘Why’re you hiding? It’s only going to make things worse.’ The threats weren’t doing anything for my nerves. Like a switch flipping in my mind, I spun to fire. The stalker fired back. He was across the alley from me now. For the next fifty feet, it was roll, duck, fire. He kept it up, hiding behind junk, trash and a few parked cars, raining lead. Then my Ruger clicked dry. Out of shots. Shit. I slid it neatly behind my back, between my belt and panties. The stalker charged. His face looked decorated. A mask? I clocked him in the head with a roundhouse kick, my steel- toed boots hitting home. He staggered, weaving from side to side before he toppled over backward, crashing onto the ground. I wiped sweat from my forehead as, incredibly, he stood back up and came at me like a wrecking ball. What’s this guy made of? I dropped to a crouch and swept my right leg around to trip him up. He leapt over it and landed, fists swinging, pounding me into the ground. As my head found the pavement, I rolled onto my back and caught him with a kick to the crotch. He fell forward. I followed with a punch to the throat. It choked him back for a second, long enough for me to squirm away, find my feet and run. Through a cloud of pain, I saw my saviour — a kid taking out the trash. His headphones explained why he’d risked doing it in the middle of a street fight. Was he whistling? I sped toward him, adrenaline zinging off my heels. His mouth fell open when he spotted me on a collision course. He raised both hands to ward me off. The garbage bag fell, crap spilling everywhere. ‘Sorry, buddy.’ I tore past him and into his building, finding myself in the kitchen of a restaurant. It was muggy and smelled of deep fried fish, noodles and pad Thai. Chilli burned the back of my throat. It didn’t make me want to pause and grab a takeout menu. Instead, I raced by two cleaners as they plastered themselves against the wall. I burst out into a dining room, but the yells from behind meant the stalker might be following. What? He’s not worried about witnesses? I pulled chairs off tables as I ran for the front door, leaving hurdles in my wake, but my exit was blocked, chairs stacked head high in front of me. I was trapped, save for the huge window that sported the backside of a neon sign, Asian Jim’s. Without losing stride, I threw my hands over my head and lunged straight into it. The sound was deafening. Glass shattered as I tucked for a shoulder roll and hit the sidewalk. A thousand shards pierced my skin and pain screamed through my body. I nearly gagged, struggling to stand. Oh, hell … my shoulder had popped. Keep moving! I crossed the street, weaving in and out of traffic, horns honking, brakes screeching. A bus half a block down the street pulled up to the stop. Maybe there’s a god or two after all. I reached the brightly lit bus stop, doubled over, breathless and leaking blood like a sieve. Not surprisingly, the small crowd moved as far from me as possible. I felt like one of those candy apples studded with crunchy sugar shards, only mine were made of glass. Couldn’t have been a good look, but it gave me an idea. As I pulled myself up the bus steps, the engine purring beneath my feet, diesel fumes wafting up my nose, I said, ‘Costume party.’ My voice rasped as air tore in and out of my lungs. ‘Can’t be late.’ The bus driver didn’t appear convinced. ‘East 101–299 Street?’ The last thing I wanted was for him to scan my bus pass. With my good arm, I pulled out the wad of cash from Poseidon and passed him a c-note. ‘You didn’t see me.’ He nodded me on. I took the first seat behind the wheel, my eyes shifting down the street to Asian Jim’s. A few workers stood around on the sidewalk, staring at the broken window. As the bus took off, a man emerged from the shadows, the next alleyway down from Jim’s. He mimed a gun with his hand, took aim and fired at me. Must have been my guy, but I couldn’t see his features. I swallowed hard and leaned back, the Ruger digging into my spine. The bus driver eyed me in the rear-view mirror. ‘Party.’ I mouthed the words and slipped the piece into my calf holster, snapping it shut. If he called this in and Rourke wasn’t around to intervene, I might be DNA scanned before I could tell my side of the story. Then I’d have a shitload of explaining to do. No way was I letting that happen, if I could help it. The driver’s gaze went to the traffic, the blinker flipped on and we lumbered down another street. I was surprised at the distance I’d covered from Poseidon. It would only be a short ride home. Surely I wouldn’t bleed to death in that time. ‘Ketchup,’ I said to the gay couple staring at me from across the aisle. The streetlights ran together like wet paint. The bus hummed along, and my super-hit of adrenaline started to wear off. I tried to move my shoulder to a better position, cradling it with the other arm, but as I did, I saw something digging into my wrist, tight like a tourniquet. I grabbed a barf bag out of the seat’s side pouch and spewed. The gay couple changed seats and the driver eyed me again. ‘East 101!’ His voice boomed over the mic. Had I passed out? The bus was idling, but the glare of the inside lights made it impossible to see outside. He could be dumping me anywhere. Work legs, work! How the hell my feet were going to carry me, I didn’t know. There was almost no feeling in my legs. I grabbed the armrest with my good hand and pushed up, nearly spewing again, but the move was so painful, it gave me a new rush of adrenaline. It might be enough to get me home. Please be enough. I staggered off the bus a block from my apartment building. One foot in front of the other … When had it turned so cold? My body shivered uncontrollably as I walked, eyes on my steel-toed boots, shuffling along. Halfway home, a couple of kids in gang colours harassed me. I bent over, screamed with pain, and pulled my empty gun on them. They ran a mile. Poor kids, but I didn’t have the energy to set them straight any other way. I dropped my Ruger down the storm drain, in case the cops got real interested in who shot up the back alley and decided it was my fault. Not to mention the exodus through Asian Jim’s front window. The sewer was caustic as hell, treated to stem the cholera outbreaks. There would be no prints or retrievable DNA after a few minutes in that acid bath. I’d report it missing in the morning, feeling optimistic that there would be one. The steps up to my apartment building looked like Mt Everest. I climbed, leaning half my weight on the railing. My wallet fumbled out of my hands when I tried to find my key card. Where it sat on the ground looked to be a thousand miles away. I dropped to my knees, groaning as I grabbed it. Standing up was another matter, and once through the door, it was a drunken stagger to my apartment. I swiped the card again and pushed the latch. The next thing I was face down on my apartment floor. Not sure for how long. I woke to Cate’s voice ringing in my ears as she flipped on the light. We both screamed when she rolled me onto my back. ‘Ava! What happened?’ I think she was crying. ‘Your face … your hand!’ I swallowed a surge of bile, unable to answer. That’s not good. ‘We need an ambulance.’ She was talking into her phone, giving out my address. ‘I think she was hit by a car.’ I tried to correct her on that assumption, but blacked out instead. CHAPTER FIVE

The world came in and out of view, a montage of sounds and images. I caught a strobe of blue and green, gloved hands and nauseating shifts of perspective. People were all talking at once. The scent of plastic, antiseptic and chlorine bleach shot up my nose. And blood. A lot of blood. A pale green ceiling rushed over me, punctuated by flashes of fluorescent lights. A man’s face came into focus. Too close. Can you hear me, Ava? I caught a hint of the ocean, clean and fresh. I could swear his lips weren’t moving when he spoke. Next thing, he vanished and I was restrained. A searing pain ripped through my upper body. I screamed. A table went flying; instruments scattered like buckshot. I hit someone; either that or the wall, maybe both. Everything blurred into cotton wool as warmth tingled through my veins … damn, that felt fine. I stopped fighting, content to float about a foot above the bed in too-good-to-be-true bliss. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. I became aware of an incessant beeping. It bore into my head. My lids were stuck together, the left in particular, but when they finally opened, a black monitor with squiggly green lines came into focus. Electrocardiogram? Fear washed over me and for a moment I was back in CHI Tech, curled up tight, a helpless kid in the midst of a scientific horror house. The panic threatened to overwhelm until I looked at my wrist. It blurred out. When did I lose my contacts? I couldn’t read the details, but I knew the difference between a plastic ID and a metal restraining band — the latter being standard CHI Tech issue. I held my arm at just the right distance and made out the words. LA South General. So … hospital. I took a few calming breaths. Written beneath could easily be Ava Sykes. As a kid in the Aftermath, I’d been a ward of the State, tossed from foster home to foster home, and finally handed over to CHI Tech, the Centre for Health Investigations and Technology. I promise, investigations is a misnomer. They were experimenting on us; me and about a hundred other homeless kids were subject to things I wish I could forget. When my cellmate died, I took her ID and broke out. Been flying under the radar ever since. I couldn’t have been the only one who celebrated when the LA branch of CHI Tech was gutted by fire. Was it my fault it happened the same night I escaped? Once free, I’d sworn never to be a victim again, but here I was, plugged into monitors, no idea what day it was or why I was here. What the hell happened to me? I forced myself to evaluate the situation, rather than panicking, starting with my stats. I could read the heart monitor, a benefit of my science education plus an ex-boyfriend — and still good friend — who was also in pre-med. I quizzed Tom on everything. Who knew it would come in handy in such a personal way? I located my P wave, the lowest of the peaks. It looked good. My heart muscle was contracting every second; R wave spiking up, also good. Short downward S wave; predictable. The QRS complex showed all were within normal range. The T wave following meant perfect relaxing of the heart. Okay. Good enough. Time to make a move. Curtains were drawn around the bed, my clothes nowhere in sight. I pushed down the covers, which gave me pause. I wasn’t wearing anything more than an oversized paper towel. Maybe I could find some scrubs. In the back of my mind, there was something I had to remember, like an itch I wanted to scratch, but for the life of me, I couldn’t reach it. How did I end up here? I couldn’t recall a thing. I went to throw back the covers the rest of the way only to find my right arm strapped to my chest. Looks like my shoulder popped out. I must have slept through the fix. A few fractured images flashed in my head. On second thought, maybe I didn’t sleep through it. I might even have to apologise to someone, or something. I had uncanny strength when in a rage. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My feet found the floor and I stood up. Bad choice. The room whirled at the speed of light. ‘Steady there, Ms Sykes.’ A nurse in blue scrubs stood before me, a lanky, Monet-blur of a dude. He tucked me back into bed. My throat felt so dry, I could hardly talk. ‘Can I have a drink?’ He pointed to a saline drip above my head and an empty blood bag. ‘Sorry, Ava. NPO. It means …’ Latin for ‘nothing by mouth’. I know. ‘What happened?’ He nodded at the wall. It was a floating cloud without my contacts, but the plaster and the brick behind it did cave in at about elbow height. Cracks spread out from the epicentre, reaching to the ceiling. It wasn’t exactly what I had asked. ‘Was I admitted with a sledgehammer?’ The nurse chuckled. ‘You’ll have to ask Dr Rossi.’ He made a note in the file and put it back on the rack. ‘When does she make her rounds?’ ‘He checks ICU patients, morning and night. He’ll be along in a few hours.’ ‘I’m in ICU?’ ‘If you’d seen yourself when you came in, you wouldn’t be asking.’ I closed my eyes and it hit me like a tidal wave. VIP, the walk home, the attack. ‘I need my phone!’ ‘Take it easy, Ms Sykes.’ He turned an amber-coloured drip wide open with one hand while pinning me down with the other. ‘Breathe.’ ‘You don’t understand. I have to call Rourke.’ ‘Your boyfriend will be notified.’ ‘Not my boyfriend. Detective …’ Another nurse appeared. ‘It’s alright, Ms Sykes. You rest now,’ she said, glancing at my drip, sweat beading on her forehead. I felt a rush of euphoria run down my limbs. ‘Wait.’ They did, until I couldn’t keep my eyes open or lift a finger. Everything went delightfully languid. I don’t know how long I lay in a sedative-induced haze, but when I woke again, I took it real slow before trying to sit up. The hospital room stayed still, even while bending forward to retrieve my chart. Small blessings. It did feel a bit like my brains were sloshing in a jar, but I bore it. Damn, that asshole hit me hard. The stalker’s taunts echoed in my head as the horror of the previous night rushed over me. Would he come here? I had to talk to Rourke. I also had to make doubly sure the CHI Tech logo wasn’t anywhere on the treatment schedule. I pushed the welling fear back and read my chart. It wasn’t easy, without contacts, but I adjusted the distance until blurry lines came into focus, almost. The police had been notified. That’s good, I guess … as long as I could talk to Rourke first. It said the cops had picked up an evidence bag, the one containing a thin ribbon they’d cut from my wrist. A little charm bracelet from my stalker? I barely remembered that, but his parting gesture after I made it onto the bus stayed crystal clear … so were the images burned into my mind from VIP. Those people chained to walls, looking like they were bleeding out. Daniel had convinced me it was just a performance, but floorshow or not, I had to persuade Cate to stay out of the basement. She was way too sensitive to be immersed in scenes of that kind, no matter what the pay. I planned to make sure she didn’t so much as cross a street alone at night. I guess there had been something good about her Joey taxi service after all. I flipped to the next page, surprised this was my second bag of blood. I slept through them both? What a perk. Being transfused was not my favourite thing, for several reasons, none of which I wanted to think about. I read on. The treatments were simple: manual reduction of dislocated R-shoulder, transfusion, fluid therapy, a single intra- muscular jab of long-acting antibiotics, no analgesics, and no more sedatives ordered, once I regained consciousness. That would be now. It instilled confidence. Some ER doctors would have sent me straight to the psych ward for observation, if I’d come in swinging, and according to the nurse and the wall, I had. That was … I squinted at the date. It couldn’t be right. Dr Rossi’s signature at the bottom was like a relief map of the Sierra Nevada. I couldn’t begin to guess his first name, but a picture was forming in my head: short, thin, late fifties, wire- rimmed glasses, bald head and bit of a pot belly. Kind eyes, but small, and close set. A nasally voice. Smart as a whip. With that image in mind, I drifted back to sleep, the treatment chart clutched to my chest. No CHI Tech logo anywhere.

* * *

I woke to liquid rushing in. It was all around me, cold, pounding, like going over a waterfall. My mouth opened to scream and water poured down my throat, into my lungs. I was drowning, soundlessly. Hysterically. Crying for help without voice. It was a familiar feeling, part of the nightmare I had on unconscious speed-dial. After struggling like a maniac, I went catatonic, immobile as the sea consumed me. I sank like a rock. Colours flashed before my eyes as I adjusted to the aqueous depths. Light was on a new spectrum, surprisingly vivid. The dull shades of mono-green that comprised the basis of my vision burst into dozens of brilliant tones. I saw colours I had no memory of and struggled to name them: wild blues, rainbow chartreuse, yellows beyond description. Was that red? I tried to scream again, maybe this time in excitement, but there was no air. Only water. I went back to fighting for breath with everything I had. Images flashed in front of my eyes, like a time-lapse geological history of the sea in fast forward. Make that super- fast forward. There were global extinctions, a woolly mammoth being torn to bits by sharks, a whale the length of the Empire State Building, a human child falling into the sea, still alive, kicking, wrapped in chains. He landed on a bed of corals that came to life from his touch. They entwined him and he closed his eyes, smiling as he fell asleep. The chains rusted away to dust as a single word came into my head. Ma’atta. I watched as more children floated gently down toward the tombs, each embraced by the waiting corals. They looked peaceful. Asleep. Then the scene sped even faster. The entombed children matured and rose like naked spectres from the sea bed. On it went, young drifting down, some adults too, all embraced by the coral, all soon to rise, graceful, beautiful, at home in the sea. It distracted me enough to dump some of the fear-crazed thoughts. For a second or two. Then everything blurred into a murky, muddy vision. Once again, I found myself gasping for air. * * *

Ms Sykes? Are you with us? I took a few quick breaths, my eyes locked on the man leaning over me. It took a minute before I recognised him. Seat A15. Shit, another dream? I frowned, unable to work out how he could possibly be here otherwise. This guy in my bedroom? That’s a hook-up I wouldn’t forget. Who are you? Was it my question, or his? ‘I’m wondering the same thing.’ The words slipped out of my mouth. He didn’t respond for some time, but lingered within my range of vision. ‘Do you find that interesting reading, Ms Sykes?’ He nodded to the chart I clutched. Chart? Of course. Not my bedroom. Hospital. After being beaten to crap by some crazy stalker. I rubbed my wrist and tried to sit up. Was he holding me down? ‘Easy. You’re safe now.’ His voice was deep and warm, a California accent, with a hint of Eastern Euro base. I wasn’t in the space to be this analytical, no matter what my Virgo horoscope said, but the sound ringing in my head when this guy spoke had my attention. It was musical. Alluring. I blinked away the underwater dream and focussed on what was real. Whoa … A15 looked even better close up. That is, he did when he was the right distance away for me to see him clearly, which was about a foot and a half. I need my damn contacts! He stood tall, really tall — six four at least — with those dark almond-shaped eyes that had stared at me in the UCLA lecture hall, a strong jaw, and that wild, windblown hair, a look that didn’t go with the lab coat and stethoscope draped around his neck. I shrank back. Too many times, expressionless men, and women, in similar gear had … You’re safe now. He turned his back and checked my monitors. His words would be comforting, if I believed them. Stay Zen, let the sedatives wear off completely — along with the hallucinations — and make a run for it. Meanwhile, I needed a distraction to focus on and decided Dr Rossi could be it. I forced myself to breathe slow and deep when he turned back to me to check my shoulder. His skin was tan and smooth, not a wrinkle. Looked mid-twenties but had to be older, didn’t he, to be a senior lecturer with a ‘Dr’ in front of his name? He wasn’t wearing intern scrubs. I squinted as he leaned over me. His face … holy wowza. He raised his brows. Heat flushed over me. Had I said that aloud? I didn’t think so … but he’d hear that a lot. This guy was all kinds of gorgeous. I squinted to read his name tag: Dr Miguel Rossi. ‘Miguel, is it? Never would have guessed from your signature.’ I’m glad you’re recovered enough to read it. I pressed my hand to my temple. Maybe I wasn’t as healed as I thought. Either I’d just blacked out, or this guy was a ventriloquist. He sat on the edge of the bed. ‘How old are you?’ ‘Twenty-four.’ ‘Home address and phone number?’ ‘Isn’t it on my file?’ He smiled. ‘Sure, but I’m trying to ascertain if your brain still works.’ ‘Oh.’ ‘Favourite colour?’ Normally I would say green as it was mostly what I saw, but my mind jolted back to the underwater dream. ‘Red!’ I’d have to talk to someone in neuroscience to see if that was possible, to ‘see’ red in my dreams, even though I was colour blind in waking life. What would my reference be? ‘Topic of your presentation last week?’ He kept up with the questions. ‘A survey of auto-immune diseases. Insights and analysis from genome-wide association studies.’ He asked a few more questions, then finally said, ‘One of Teern’s?’ I drew breath to answer, which seemed to fascinate him for some reason, and then exhaled without saying a word. After a moment’s pause, I said, ‘What?’ As I spoke, the sea dragged me down again. It was quieter this time. I could see forever, an entirely aquatic view. Whale songs echoed in the distance. Shimmering fish darted by. I sank, and the bottom came up fast, a patchwork of deep blues and black, edged with tracks of white sand. Suddenly the world snapped into super-sharp focus, revealing a rugged seascape teeming with life. It was like my eyes had a zoom lens that kicked in wherever I looked. Schools of yellow, black and silver-blue fish shot away from me. Blazes of purple coralline algae waved back and forth in the current, and a velvet gold backdrop of bull kelp rippled like streamers in a light breeze. Then a shadow crossed overhead and the fear crept back. I looked up, and a ton of water weighed down on me. The corner of my mind that remained sane assured me it was a dream. This isn’t real. A school of manta rays pumped their graceful wings up and down as they flew by in slow motion, their creamy white underbellies showing off rows of gill slits that looked like emaciated ribs. I had to remind myself that these giants didn’t eat people. I’d done a semester of marine bio. I knew where I sat on the food chain. In this environment, it was definitely not on top. A long arm of kelp wafted in front of my face. I held on, like a boat to an anchor, so I wouldn’t be swept away. Like ‘away’ would be any worse? I spun in circles, stopping at twelve o’clock. What the hell? A temple? A rush of cold current thrust me into the middle of the ruins. Not a temple. It was a sunken graveyard with rows of tombs. I tried to dart away. Damn, I needed to learn how to swim! Ava, come back. My eyes popped open and I sucked in a breath. ‘Are you having trouble with the memories?’ Rossi leaned in, and with him came the scent of the sea. The aroma was heavenly, organic, marred only by a trace of blood, but then, I was in a hospital. The whole place reeked of it. ‘You don’t know, or you don’t want to say?’ he asked. Huh? I tried to clear my head. ‘Relax, Ava. You’re on neutral ground. I’ll look after you while you’re here.’ I waited a moment as the last wisps of the dream-vision floated away. Maybe I was brain damaged, because no way was he making sense. ‘I’m okay, aren’t I?’ ‘I’d like to run more tests.’ I shrank back. ‘What tests?’ ‘Just a chest x-ray and more blood work. A DNA —’ ‘No.’ ‘It won’t hurt,’ he reassured me, as if I was a frightened child. ‘You do not have my permission.’ My voice upped an octave. ‘Ava, it’s fine. Look at me. You’re in no danger here.’ ‘Easy for you to say. You’re not the one strapped to a bed.’ My throat constricted, forehead beaded with sweat. ‘No one’s going to do that again.’ ‘You strapped me to the bed?’ I sat up, heat rushing through my limbs. ‘It was that, or let you take out the entire ward.’ He levelled his eyes on me. ‘We have millions of dollars of equipment here. Couldn’t let it happen.’ ‘So you tied me down?’ ‘I stayed with you the whole time, and you are fine now. Cognizant. I won’t do anything without your consent, but you have some anomalies. Your breathing. It’s unprecedented. Also, I’m concerned about your hearing.’ ‘I hear, and breathe, just fine.’ I didn’t mention that my mind had switched momentarily to the Cousteau channel. He doesn’t need to know that. Rossi gave me a quizzical look, which I returned with a blank stare. ‘You don’t have my consent,’ I repeated. ‘Alright,’ he said. ‘We’ll leave it for now.’ His penlight was out, flashing in front of me. ‘Ishihara test?’ The Ishihara test for colour blindness was standard, but what was he doing with the penlight, counting my rods and cones? ‘I’m red-green.’ He nodded, like it didn’t surprise him, or maybe that was just his doctor face. I looked at my chart while he took my blood pressure. ‘Approve of your treatment?’ He pulled on the chart and I let it slip from my hands. ‘Why two transfusions? My PCV …’ His eyebrows went up. ‘Your packed cell volume?’ ‘Sure, it was low, but nothing a banana bag wouldn’t fix.’ I squinted at the drip rack overhead and saw a haze of fluoro. ‘Oh.’ It looked like I already had one. B vitamins were the extra zing in the IV fluids that turned them bright yellow, hence the name banana bag. But the transfusions explained some of my freaked-out disorientation. I always went a little nuts from them. Another symptom to add to my list … Rossi tilted his head. ‘You were … depleted.’ ‘How did you know?’ He ran his hand through his shaggy hair. ‘You don’t seem very well informed.’ ‘And you don’t seem to be helping that.’ ‘Your depletion was obvious.’ That’s supposed to fill me in? Did he check my blood slides himself and catch the very hard to detect, rare and scarcely written about auto-immune condition? Sharp, if so. ‘You’re treating my blood disorder?’ He hesitated. ‘Is that what you call it?’ What’s he talking about? My ultra- rare condition, hemosomic anemia, was a disorder where my red cells went into a kind of stasis and wouldn’t wake until fresh blood was in my system. It flared up every year or so — I still didn’t know why — but treatment was a whole blood transfusion, which is when the fun began. Most people don’t know that besides the usual suspects of A, B, AB or O, there are at least twenty-nine other blood types. But I’m not on any of those charts. To add to the mystery, I could be transfused with any type, which is a plus. Downside? My condition was a timebomb. One of those AADDs — Aftermath associated degenerative diseases. Eventually, the auto-immune cells would win, or so they told me at CHI Tech. I planned to find the cause, and a cure, before they did. ‘What do you call it, Dr Rossi? There’s no mention in my file.’ He flipped through my record, scribbling here and there. ‘Did you try page two?’ I had, and there was nothing about my blood condition that I could see, but I decided to play along. ‘Must have missed it.’ His back was to me now. Those broad shoulders … I wondered if he surfed, or maybe just worked out. A martial art? I couldn’t help imagining him rocking up to my training … rolling on the mats … pinning him down … ‘I train in jujitsu, weights … swimming, of course. You?’ Heat flushed my face again. My thoughts and vocal cords were working way outside the box today. ‘Has LAPD come back? A Detective Rourke?’ I changed the subject as fast as I could, and suddenly fear washed over me. Would my stalker be waiting out in the hall? ‘Rourke is dropping in tomorrow, as soon as you are out of ICU, and Ava, you’re safe,’ he said without turning around. Like I believed that! I pulled the covers up higher now that he appeared to be through with the physical. ‘You’re under my protection here.’ Rossi turned around and for a moment, I saw something in his look. It was excitement, curiosity and maybe a touch of caution. ‘How long have you been rogue?’ Whoa, left field. I rubbed my temple. ‘I wouldn’t use that word exactly. Yeah, no parents, grew up in the system, went a little wild, but hey, I’m fourth year medical science and up for a research internship. With CDC, if I’m lucky.’ ‘That’s not what I meant.’ I stared at him until he put the chart down. ‘You really don’t know?’ He crossed his arms and frowned, as if trying to work me out. This man had to be the worst communicator ever. I was betting he was single. ‘When can I use my phone?’ He looked at his watch. ‘First thing in the morning.’ ‘Then I’m out of here.’ I wasn’t asking. ‘I’ll release you when you can walk without falling over.’ I made to stand up, showing him how fast I healed. The room whirled. The sound of the sea barrelled in and dragged me down to the sunken graveyard. Bioluminescence bloomed wherever I looked; it lit up the columns surrounding the tombs. The gravestones were chiselled with symbols, nothing I recognised. Part of me wanted to reach out and touch them, trace them with my fingertip, but I snapped my hand back, frozen to the spot. Like a horror movie, a woman rose from the tomb in front of me. She was beautiful and terrible, and not wearing a thing. I tried to get away, but all I could do was flail about. The woman was calm, utterly at home in this submerged world. I backed until I hit the tomb behind me. Something pushed me down … My vision flickered back to Rossi. He pressed me into the bed, only the paper gown between his hand and my chest. ‘Ava, it’s alright. No one can hurt you here.’ He lingered there, as if waiting for something. Finally he straightened. ‘Any other questions?’ I shook my head, vanquishing the hallucination. ‘Have I had any visitors?’ ‘The woman who came in with the ambulance was back the next day. Cate, is it? I told her you’d call, when you could. Those came as well.’ He pointed over his shoulder without looking. ‘From Daniel. Your boyfriend?’ ‘My boss.’ I hardly glanced at the massive bouquet of yellow roses. ‘What day is it?’ ‘Sunday.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Monday now.’ That had me counting on my fingers. ‘I’ve been here three days?’ He nodded. I formed the next sentence carefully. ‘May I please have my phone?’ Cate would be out of her mind with worry. ‘Not in here. When you make it under your own steam to the patients’ lounge, you can use it.’ Rossi tucked the clipboard back in the holder. ‘Don’t worry. She’s been calling the nurses’ station for updates.’ His look was parental, not that I’d had any of that since the Big One. The nurse came with a bowl of soup and Rossi left, pulling my privacy curtain closed. The broth was warm and soothing, and even better with extra salt. I drained it and closed my eyes. Maybe it would make more sense in the morning. Either way, come tomorrow, I was out of here. No tests. No freaking way. CHAPTER SIX

The patient lounge was on another floor. Rossi hadn’t mentioned that, but the next day, I was discharged from ICU and put in a rehab ward. The Sykes healing gene had kicked in. The more I learnt in bio, the more I knew my immune system was off the charts, in both directions. Part of the gift-curse of hemosomic anemia, was my best guess. It presented in one of two extremes: hyperbolic metabolism, which meant wound healing was a superpower, or the dead opposite, where I went into near-suspended animation until transfused. The worry, of course, was I’d go into the damn stupor and never come out, or go so far to the opposite end my cells would virtually explode. For now, I was feeling somewhere in the middle. Nice. It was a short walk to the lounge from my room on the new ward. No problem making it ‘under my own steam,’ as Dr Rossi had called it. Who says that any more? Steampunks? Detective Rourke, who’d promised he was on his way, hadn’t arrived, so I sat on a dark blue, overstuffed couch and texted Cate. Hey saviour, give me a lift. While I waited for her to reply, I picked the scab around my wrist. At yours now, grabbing things, Cate texted. They letting you out already? I texted back, Yeah, on good behaviour. LOL. Ha Ha. Bring tee, jeans and boots? Bra? Laptop? I was in a hospital issue tracksuit, less than attractive, not that it mattered. It seemed my clothes had been scissored to death in the ER. Contacts on sink? Blind as bat here. Cool. Joey’s taking me. C U xx Crap. Crap. Crap. I didn’t text that, but I sure as hell thought it. Cate had been vulnerable and scared. I was hospitalised and she went straight back to jackass Joey. I texted back, K. b careful. As I tapped ‘Send,’ Rourke showed. He paused for a moment before taking the single lounge chair opposite me. ‘You look like hell, Ava.’ I leaned in to focus on his face. ‘So do you.’ He smelled of cigarettes and exhaustion. ‘Tell me you haven’t lit up.’ ‘Haven’t.’ I took a long, exaggerated sniff. ‘Liar.’ Rourke shook his head. ‘Been arguing with Flanagan. He’s a chimney.’ ‘Flanagan?’ ‘Never mind. Tell me what the hell happened.’ He had his tablet out. This was official. ‘My first night working for Poseidon …’ His brows went up. ‘When were you going to tell me?’ ‘Yesterday, at class, but I was unconscious, so didn’t manage it.’ He ignored my snark and kept going with the question. ‘Did Poseidon scout you?’ I thought about it. ‘My friend Cate works there. She mentioned me to her boss.’ ‘Daniel Bane?’ He frowned. ‘He wants to take you under his wing?’ ‘I don’t think there are any wings involved.’ ‘Are you seeing him?’ ‘Of course not. I work there, that’s all.’ My face heated as I spoke, because it wasn’t the whole truth. I knew Bane had some kind of other intentions. I mean, the kazillion roses? The cute note? But, it was none of Rourke’s business and I hadn’t had time to sort it in my own head yet. Besides, the answer should have been ‘no’, so I stuck to it. ‘Duly noted. Go on, please.’ ‘I was attacked on the way home.’ ‘Time?’ ‘’Bout one a.m.’ ‘Walking? From Grand Avenue?’ ‘Do you want me to tell the story or not?’ He pressed his lips together and I shared the whole thing, starting with my little trip to hell, a la VIP. When I finished, he said, ‘You let him hurt you this badly?’ Rourke knew how strong I was. Hell, he’d trained me from white belt to black in jujitsu and coached me in MMA. Street fighting wasn’t a foreign language to me. I sat up straighter. ‘I didn’t let him do anything.’ ‘But he got the jump?’ ‘Did you not register the part about VIP? I was trying to wrap my head around what I saw. A bit distracting.’ ‘I’ve heard they put on quite a show.’ His eyes didn’t meet mine. ‘No kidding.’ I glanced away as well. ‘Can I see your wrist?’ ‘The perp tied something around it when he first pinned me. Weird, eh?’ Rourke frowned as he held my hand, turning it to examine the damage. ‘Hmm.’ ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ ‘Maybe nothing.’ ‘But if it were something?’ He sighed. ‘Keep this to yourself, but it’s the copycat’s MO.’ ‘Copycat?’ ‘We’ve kept it out of the news, but some savvy journalist will put it together.’ ‘You aren’t making sense.’ ‘The attack matches a stack of unsolved cases from ninety years ago. We don’t see how it could be the same guy, hence, copycat.’ ‘Yeah, it wasn’t a geriatric dude that jumped me.’ I stopped to chuckle, but Rourke didn’t join me. ‘What’s the MO, exactly?’ Rourke looked at his hands as he talked. ‘All the bodies had the same calling card: a tightly tied, coloured ribbon around their swollen wrists, or sometimes ankles. Usually coeds from the university.’ A wave of nausea rocked me. ‘My stalker’s that guy? Did he take Daina?’ ‘You know her?’ ‘Yeah, a bit.’ ‘Three more coeds have been reported missing since she vanished.’ ‘That’s one a week?’ He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Yeah. Sometimes more.’ ‘You are keeping it out of the news.’ I had to sit with it for a moment. ‘Get anything off my ribbon?’ ‘It was clean.’ A shadow crossed over me. ‘What about my DNA?’ ‘Our records match it to the new you, all good.’ One of the side effects of taking an assumed identity was the paranoia of being discovered. I willed my stomach to unclench. ‘Ava, you okay?’ ‘Bit sore, and a bit hallucinatory with the treatments, but yeah, I’m fine.’ I leaned closer, keeping him in focus. Rourke was my mentor, one hundred percent on my side. I trusted him, as much as I could anyone. ‘I don’t want to dob myself in for the gunfire in the alley, or the “breaking and exiting” at Asian Jim’s, but I do want you to catch this guy.’ He nodded. ‘Your description’s vague.’ ‘Sorry. It’s hard to take notes when you’re slammed to the pavement and kicked like a sack.’ ‘But you say his face was covered in tribal war paint?’ ‘Sort of, but smooth. Like a mask, a second skin. Is that part of the MO?’ ‘I’ll check. Haven’t seen it in the old case file.’ I rubbed at my wrist. ‘You know, Poseidon, well it’s damn dark down there, and I don’t mean the lighting. You sure nobody’s getting hurt?’ He patted my good arm. ‘I’ll check it out again, but Vice has done a few top to bottom searches. They found recreational drug use and consensual public sex. Charges are usually dropped, but the snuff film inspired performances, no matter how distasteful, are completely legal.’ ‘That’s it?’ ‘They booked a few patrons for coke, but as far as the LAPD is concerned, Poseidon’s a clean club.’ ‘Sure it is …’ ‘You just focus on healing. Finals coming up, right?’ ‘Yeah, studying, but what about going home. Is this killer going to nail my ass while I sleep?’ That thought was enough to give me insomnia for the next twelve months. ‘Not his MO.’ He rubbed his temples. ‘I’ll put an extra patrol in your suburb, as a precaution. I’ve already ordered twenty-four hour surveillance.’ The cleft between his eyebrows deepened. ‘Anything happens, backup is there. Green Subaru. He won’t have another chance at you, but I don’t want him to know that.’ It only took a second to follow his drift. ‘I’m bait?’ ‘The profiler says he goes for the helpless, and you’ve shown him that’s not you. But if he does hang around, we’re on him. We haven’t had any luck otherwise.’ ‘No survivors?’ ‘You’re the first.’ He tapped off his tablet. ‘When you’re able, come in and look at mugshots.’ He stood. ‘And keep this quiet.’ ‘How quiet?’ ‘Don’t talk to the press. Now, go home, rest, and get back to classes. Business as usual.’ I groaned at the thought of missing any more lectures. There was one this afternoon I could make. ‘You putting that tail on me straight away?’ ‘They’ll be watching your house, be on you from there.’ ‘I hope you catch him.’ ‘I’m planning on it.’ Rourke gave me a quick nod and left. When he reached the elevator, he turned. ‘How long’s that shoulder going to hold you up?’ He wanted me back on the training mats. No surprise there. ‘Day or two. It wasn’t fully out.’ Lie. Lie. Lie. He gave me one of those throwaway waves. The elevator dinged and he was gone. While I waited for Cate, I went back over the attack, making sure I hadn’t left anything out. It wasn’t doing anything for my nerves, reliving the experience over and over, but at least the jolting underwater scenes had stopped. Maybe the visions had all played out. ‘Let’s see about that.’ Rossi stood over me. Damn he was tall. ‘Pardon?’ ‘How’d it go with the detective?’ ‘Fine.’ I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. ‘Did he believe you?’ ‘Why wouldn’t he?’ I stood up quickly, to show him I could. ‘You’ll release me now.’ It was supposed to be a question. I knew the doctor-patient dialectic, but it might have sounded a little more like a command. Too bad. ‘How’s your rehab going?’ ‘Fine. My stats are in the database.’ Suddenly I was feeling hot in my baggy hospital issue sweats, and not the sexy kind. The nurse had supplied them, along with some slightly oversized sneakers. I’d prefer bare feet, but that was not up to code. Rossi leaned in, and I anticipated the clean ocean breeze that seemed to follow this man. I wasn’t disappointed. ‘Look straight ahead.’ He flashed his penlight in my eyes. ‘Any headaches?’ ‘Nope.’ ‘Dizziness? Nausea? Visions?’ ‘I’m really feeling a lot better today.’ The contrast between being beaten to a pulp and fresh from a hefty transfusion was fabulous. I tried to keep the thrill to myself. Rossi was on a need-to-know basis and at the moment, he only needed to know how to sign my release forms. ‘I want you to take it easy for a few days.’ There it was again, that deep parental concern in his voice. ‘Not a problem. I’m in study mode.’ ‘Are you going straight home?’ ‘Via the campus. I’ve a chem lab at three.’ ‘You have to be careful, Ava.’ ‘Anyone in particular I should be wary of?’ Rossi leaned closer still. His breath was warm on my cheek. ‘Use your intuition.’ I pulled back and laughed nervously. ‘Thanks.’ I planned, then and there, to start that ‘be wary’ thing with him. I don’t trust you, Dr Rossi, and your test happy agendas. He sighed. I’d hoped you would. I did a double take. His words had been a whisper, but I’d caught them. ‘I’m going to give you a short course of prednisone, to keep the shock reaction down.’ I wondered how much that would cost. My insurance flew economy class. ‘I’ve a sample packet in my office. Just be a moment.’ He left and I sat there with my thoughts, most of them circling around the copycat killer. I’d come face to face with this guy? Five minutes later the elevator dinged and Cate stepped out alongside Rossi. The lovely strawberries and cream scent, more than my no-contacts sight, gave her away, and I knew it was him because of the sea breeze. Cate tossed me a small backpack, which I caught as it came into focus, but her words were for Dr Rossi. ‘Can she go now?’ I could hear her eyelashes batting. Oh, boy. ‘All yours,’ Rossi said. ‘Give me a sec to change.’ And put my contacts in. Good idea. Rossi’s voice was warm in my head. I shot a look as Cate asked him another question. She didn’t appear to mind the one-on-one time with my doctor. ‘I’ll be right back.’ I don’t think either of them heard me.

* * *

Cate had packed jeans, a pale-blue tank top and a sleeveless black hoodie. At the bottom were black knickers and a sports bra. I put them on, slipped the contacts in and came out carrying the huge bouquet of flowers in both arms, backpack over my shoulder. I peeked around the fragrant blooms just in time to see Rossi, crystal clear now, hand Cate his card. Work fast, why don’t ya? My boots squeaked as I approached. It brought their heads up, like I’d caught them at something. Had I? That’s when I noticed Cate’s new eyelash extensions. Amazing, but they didn’t completely cover the bloodshot, dead tired eyes. Working double shifts? I wondered. Then I met Rossi’s gaze. The intensity nearly gave me whiplash. It was the first time I’d taken a real look at him, with the contacts in. ‘Ooh la la,’ Cate said. ‘Are those from Daniel Bane?’ I blushed. Damned autonomic nervous system. ‘Seems so.’ Rossi sounded remote. ‘Good luck, Ava. Remember to take it slow.’ He hesitated, his voice deepening. ‘If your shoulder gives you any trouble, let me know.’ ‘Thanks.’ He dipped his head and walked out. That’s it? Don’t know what more I expected. Squeak squeak squeak. I was face to face with Cate. ‘You washed ’em or something?’ I indicated my steel-toed Timberland boots. Yeah, there was an edge in my voice. Cate wasn’t the least intimidated, but damn, she looked wrung out. ‘You think a week of dried blood would be good for the leather? I tossed them in with the bloody towel and blanket.’ ‘That must have made a racket.’ ‘It did.’ We headed down the hall, her open- toed, Jimmy Choo Portias clipping along, a total contrast to my Tims, which lost their squeak halfway to the elevator. While we waited for the doors to open, I cleared my throat. ‘What was that about?’ ‘Hmm?’ ‘Rossi gave you his card?’ ‘With his number.’ ‘Really?’ ‘It’s for you.’ The elevator doors opened. ‘Hand me your phone.’ I turned so she could pull it out of my pack. ‘I won’t need to call him.’ ‘He thinks you will.’ She winked. Whatever. I held my breath the entire way down until the doors opened. Parking lot level. I certainly didn’t like the freaking things any better since the ‘underworld journey’ at Poseidon. I took a lungful of LA air as we stepped out into the lot. The sun beat down, shadows still short in the early afternoon. The breeze carried thick-brown pollution, a mix of diesel, garbage, carbon monoxide and something soapy, the kind found in public toilets. With it came the scent of the sea, which today wasn’t much better. My lungs burned as I sucked in another breath. ‘Are you alright, Cate?’ ‘Working a lot, if that’s what you mean.’ ‘Did they question you about me? Did Daniel?’ ‘Don’t worry. I told him you were beat up on the way home and out of action for a week or so.’ She smiled brightly. ‘Looks like he’s thinking about you.’ ‘Cate, about Poseidon.’ How much to say? ‘I don’t think you should try for VIP.’ She stopped as if I’d slapped her in the face. ‘Are you joking? With the money I’ll make? And the promotion?’ I didn’t want to think about the career opportunities for sirens attending a blood orgy. ‘Promotion how? You’re not doing … you know …’ ‘Sex? No! Nothing like that.’ As far as I could tell, it was already as ‘like that’ as could be without actually doing it. Fine, if she could compartmentalise emotionally, but I wasn’t sure she could and I at least wanted to talk to her about it. ‘Like what then?’ I reminded myself not to judge. ‘VIP is a big opportunity!’ Wrong. ‘Hell no! You’re not going down there. Ever!’ ‘Ava, stop tripping. Of course I am, when I’ve proven myself.’ ‘Proven? How does one do that exactly?’ ‘Oh, puh-leeze, get off your high horse. I can’t even hear you from so far above me.’ I pressed my mouth shut for a moment. ‘I’m just saying, you don’t know what goes on down there, in VIP.’ ‘Sure I do. It’s where the big bank is, where the sugar customers hang. Every employee at Poseidon wants in on that floor.’ She gave me a sideways glance and led the way across the lot. ‘We’re parked over here.’ Cate pointed. ‘Section E.’ ‘We aren’t through talking about this.’ I followed her line of sight and frowned. Parked next to a white BMW was a familiar pale-blue double cab pickup. I’d forgotten Joey was back in the picture. Too short a reprieve. ‘Him?’ She shrugged. ‘He offered.’ Her voice went whiny. ‘What was I supposed to do?’ ‘You were supposed to say piss off.’ She looked at me with those big, beautiful, rag doll eyes. ‘I … couldn’t.’ ‘Clearly.’ I walked beside her. In a few steps, the squeak was back. ‘Please.’ Cate grabbed my good arm and gave it a squeeze. ‘Play nice?’ A curious sensation moved up my spine and I looked over the top of her head. The parking lot seemed quiet. My attention returned to Cate. ‘When am I not nice?’ That made her laugh. The tension had almost dissolved by the time Joey pushed open the passenger door. Almost. Cate slid in beside him. I hopped in the rear, bouquet and all, and strapped in, although it wasn’t that easy with my arm still in a sling. On the seat was my laptop. Perfect. They could take me straight to class. ‘Hey, Joey. How you going?’ See? I can be civil. He stared at the rear-view mirror, looking at himself. Oh yeah, he was hot with his thick, copper-blond hair, dark eyes and olive skin, but was it worth it? No. ‘What took you so long? I’m late for work.’ ‘Thank you,’ I said, pretending he wasn’t a world-class asshole. ‘I’m much better after my stay in ICU. Good of you to ask.’ And, by the way, have you noticed your girlfriend? She looks like hell? Care to find out why? My head snapped back as he hit the accelerator. Great. Now he had road rage. ‘Dick,’ I mumbled under my breath. Cate turned back over the seat and gave me a beseeching look. I shrugged, adding a few things to my to-do list: 1) study, 2) oil boots, 3) avoid being murdered, 4) get Cate into relationship counselling. Joey peeled onto Washington Boulevard. ‘Slow down already!’ I yelled. He glared at the rear-view mirror. ‘Don’t tell me how to drive.’ The word ‘bitch’ wasn’t spoken, but definitely implied. ‘What’s with you?’ I put the flowers on the floor and grabbed my laptop. Priorities. ‘Some of us have to work today.’ Joey always was big on resentment, low on generosity. ‘Like I don’t?’ ‘Uni isn’t work.’ I wasn’t even going to grace that with a response. At the next stop light, Cate put her arm on Joey’s shoulder and he brushed it off. Prick. How a friend of mine could be with this guy was harder to figure out than Avo’s molarity in chemistry class. ‘Cate, you have to work on self- esteem.’ Hell, maybe we all do … Joey glowered at that; Cate clammed up. The feng shui harmony in the truck took a major downturn. We drove in silence through the stop and go traffic. At this rate, it would be another half hour locked up with these two. Maybe I should have taken a cab, or waited for the bus. As I stared into the rear-view mirror to glare back at Joey, I noticed a white BMW behind us. It was the same model as the one in the parking lot back at the hospital. Coincidence? I resisted the urge to turn around. Instead, I leaned forward and glanced in the side mirror as Joey changed lanes. The BMW followed. I slumped down in the seat. Probably nothing. Three turns later, I knew it wasn’t chance. This BMW was on our tail. ‘Joey, take the highway 405 exit.’ Technically, it was the old interstate 405, but post Big One, it hugged the coast, had unrestricted access and more cross roads than you could count. On all the new maps, it was highway. ‘Why the 405?’ It was across four lanes of traffic, coming up fast. ‘Stay on 2 and we can cut across to Wilshire,’ Cate said. ‘405!’ I shouted. Cate gripped the dash. ‘We’ll never make it.’ Joey took that as a challenge. He slapped the right turn signal and went for the exit. Then realising there was still one lane and a semi between us, he backed off. ‘She’s right.’ Like hell she is. The BMW was still there. A flood of adrenaline rushed through me. I released my belt and threw myself forward, screaming at the top of my lungs. I cranked the wheel toward the exit. ‘Floor it!’ Cate smashed into me, our heads knocking. Joey had no choice but to stomp it, or be hit from behind. We sped in front of the semi, scraped the concrete traffic barrier on two wheels and flew down the twenty-five mph exit ramp doing sixty. He slammed on the brakes. I launched toward the dash, my grip on the backrest saving me from cracking my head open. We slowed enough to make the hairpin turn. It plastered us to the side of the truck before we straightened out, cruising north on highway 405. To the left, the Pacific Ocean ate away at the new narrow coast below. To my right, Cate clutched her shoulder harness, knuckles white, eyes unblinking. She didn’t look like she could breathe. Joey stared ahead. Sweat dripped down his temples. He glared into the rear-view mirror. ‘Are you insane, Sykes?’ I was too relieved we made it to answer. Plus, at the moment, I was questioning my mental status as much as he was. ‘What the hell, Ava?’ he was shouting, but at least he had his eyes back on the road. I buckled back into my seat. ‘That was us, not getting killed.’ He shook his head. ‘Take the Westward exit. It’s coming up in a couple of miles.’ ‘Not happening.’ He changed lanes. ‘What are you doing?’ ‘Taking you back to the hospital where you left your brains.’ I glanced at Cate for support. She still hadn’t blinked. ‘Look, Joey. I thought there might be someone following us, is all.’ ‘Following as in …’ Cate’s voice was a whisper. ‘Your attacker?’ ‘I don’t know. It was the white BMW.’ Joey frowned. ‘Who the hell did you piss off?’ He caught me in the mirror again. ‘Jack fucking Freeman?’ ‘Not him …’ I whispered. The name Jack Freeman was well known, and equated with ‘mob boss.’ As untouchable as he was invisible. Nobody really knew what he looked like, but the urban legend preceded him. Or ‘them’. Most likely ‘Jack Freeman’ was a whole board of directors, running the New LA underworld. ‘White BMW?’ Joey’s eyes went wide and he hit the accelerator. ‘What are you doing?’ I yelled as we sped down the fast lane. The truck wobbled. The tyres must have been knocked out of alignment. There was a whining sound coming from the front right. ‘It’s back!’ I shot a look in the side mirror. Sure enough, a white BMW, male driver, was catching up. As we careened along, the surf crashed onto the crowded beach some two hundred feet below. An exit sign came up, with a speed limit of fifteen mph. We were doing a hundred. ‘Don’t take it!’ Cate and I shouted at the same time, but Joey wasn’t listening. A bang exploded in my ear and the truck lurched, turned sideways and skidded down the road. My laptop flew off the seat and smashed onto the floor. The vase toppled and shattered. Shit! The safety belt snapped tight across my chest, winding me. Joey turned the wheel into the spin, righting it quickly as we dropped speed. He braked, downshifted, and slowly limped to the emergency lane. The truck thumped to a stop as the engine hissed and stalled. Steam rose from the hood. No one spoke. The only thing I could hear was the rush of blood in my head, and the traffic roaring past. It took me a while to collect myself. ‘Cate? You okay?’ She leaned back in her seat. ‘Yeah. You?’ ‘Peachy.’ ‘I’m going to kill you, Sykes!’ Joey tried to tear out of his seatbelt. His movements were frantic and it took a few goes to release the catch. If I hadn’t been so freaked, I would have laughed. ‘Joey, calm down!’ Cate looked more scared now than when we were being chased. ‘No one’s hurt!’ Her voice cracked. A trickle of blood ran down her face. ‘What about my goddamn truck?’ His voice was breaking up, he yelled so loud. I unbuckled and picked up the laptop. Water from the spilled flowers ran off it. I didn’t like the chances of it ever working again. ‘It’s called insurance.’ Too bad I didn’t have any, but I knew Joey did. ‘Will he come back?’ Cate asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. ‘We don’t even know if that was your attacker,’ Joey said. ‘Right?’ ‘You must have thought so when you panicked …’ I snapped back. Joey was out of the truck and straight to my door. He yanked it open and I backed up against the other side. He didn’t seem scared of me now. ‘You freak!’ he shouted. ‘Were we even being followed?’ He spat a string of oaths. ‘It’s not like a white BMW is rare.’ He stared at me, panting, then slammed the door and went back to the driver’s seat. Joey tried to start the engine, but it didn’t turn over. ‘Damn you!’ He smacked the wheel. I was pretty sure he wasn’t talking to his truck. ‘You’re paying for this, Sykes! Every cent.’ Cate sucked in her breath. ‘Oh, thank god!’ I looked up. A black Cadillac Escalade pulled off the road in front of us. ‘Who’s that?’ Joey and I asked at the same time. ‘Our boss.’ Daniel Bane stepped out of the car, calm and classy in slacks and a white dress shirt, dark shades. ‘How’d he show up here?’ I wasn’t big on coincidences. This was just weird. Cate checked her watch. ‘On his way to the Ranch, I imagine. They have four p.m. meetings every Tuesday.’ ‘You his secretary now?’ Joey asked. I have to admit, I had the same thought. ‘What’s the Ranch?’ ‘Headquarters for the Poseidon owners. They …’ ‘Stay here.’ Joey was out of the truck before Cate could finish. What a dick. ‘You’re bleeding,’ I said to her. She turned the rear-view mirror toward her and pushed back her hair. ‘I think that happened when we conked heads.’ ‘Sorry.’ I leaned over the seat and rummaged in the glovebox for a tissue to mop up the blood. The smell of it was strong with the windows up, air con off. I sat back and cracked my window open, letting in the highway smells, and a bit of onshore wind. ‘Thanks.’ Joey and Daniel were bending over to look at the tyres. No doubt Joey was giving him the ‘Ava has paranoid schizophrenia’ rave. Great. When they stood up, Joey took out his phone and started tapping in numbers, shooting death-threat glares at me. Daniel put his hands in his pockets and caught my eye. He was at the door a moment later. ‘Hi, Mr Bane,’ Cate said, still blotting blood. She had suddenly gone all chipper. ‘Great timing. I don’t know what we would have done.’ ‘Call a tow truck, I imagine,’ I said under my breath. Did she know how hard she was flirting? With the boss? ‘You’ll need a tow, by the look of it.’ He was staring at the smashed flowers over the floor. ‘We had some casualties, but thanks for them.’ I scooted over when he made to jump in. A hint of fine cologne preceded him. ‘Are you recovering, Ava?’ I couldn’t read his expression behind the sunglasses. ‘She’s much better,’ Cate answered for me. ‘Aren’t you?’ I opened my mouth to respond. ‘Of course, we had a bit of a freak- out here.’ Cate talked over me. ‘Ava’s being stalked.’ Bane frowned. ‘So Joey said.’ Rourke’s caution about keeping this to myself was flying out the window. ‘I’m not sure. Maybe it was nothing.’ ‘Nothing?’ Cate’s voice squeaked. ‘Not what you said when the white beemer was about to ram us.’ She smiled at Bane. ‘We’re so lucky you came along. Joey’s not very good in a crisis.’ When had Cate become such a suck- up? I turned to Bane. ‘You were on your way to where?’ ‘A meeting at our head office,’ Bane said. ‘It’s a property a few minutes up the coast. We call it …’ ‘The Ranch,’ Cate said when he paused. ‘We do.’ He smiled at her. ‘I saw trouble and pulled over. What a surprise to find it was you.’ ‘Total surprise,’ I said. Didn’t quite trust it, but Bane gave me a half smile and, yeah, it seemed genuine. He was a helpful guy. Cate dropped the sugary grin when Joey headed back to the truck. I couldn’t work out if it was conscious or not. He hopped back in the driver’s seat. ‘Tyre’s shredded. Front fender’s bent, too out of shape to change, and I might have blown a head gasket.’ I wanted to say tough luck, but my civility was in place. ‘Sorry.’ Maybe I had panicked, but I was sure we were being followed. Joey grumbled. ‘Tow truck’ll be at least an hour.’ There goes my lecture. ‘I can give you ladies a lift,’ Daniel said. ‘No need for you all to wait.’ Cate’s face lifted and fell again in the space of a second. ‘I’ll stay with Joey, but Ava should go with you.’ ‘What about your meeting?’ ‘They can’t start without me.’ He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his hands. ‘Perks of being the boss.’ ‘Right.’ I checked the time on my phone. ‘Lab started five minutes ago.’ ‘A ride home then?’ ‘Thanks. That would be great.’ Last thing I wanted to do was sit here and exchange insults with Joey for the next hour. Currently he was pointing out every white beemer that roared past. ‘Are you coming back to mine?’ I asked Cate. ‘I’ve the next few days off.’ She yawned as she spoke. ‘I’ll stay at Joey’s.’ Of course. ‘Try and get some rest.’ It would give me time to make sense of her career ambitions at Poseidon. ‘Call me after you’ve had a good eight hours.’ Joey grunted something unintelligible, followed by an ‘Ava Sykes, you owe me’ look. I grabbed my pack and laptop, leaving the broken flowers for Joey. ‘Thanks for the ride.’ He turned away, and Cate rolled her eyes. I guess my tone lacked sincerity. The highway traffic rushed by as Daniel led the way to his car and opened the passenger door for me. Did this guy grow up in some E. M. Forster novel? The smell of leather hit as I sat in the cushy seat. Daniel’s door clicked closed and the sounds of traffic all but vanished. He flipped on the air con before starting up the engine. The sun baked in, but the stifling heat vanished in seconds. ‘Nice ride.’ ‘Buckle up,’ he said as we pulled into traffic. It was still awkward with one arm. I didn’t stop him when he reached a hand over to help. We headed south on 405 while Daniel asked questions. Rapid fire. It was like talking to Rourke. No, I didn’t recognise the man who attacked me. No, I couldn’t confidently spot him in a line- up. Of course I have self-defense skills. No, there was nothing that stood out about the attack. Like a blue ribbon I’m not supposed to talk about. ‘And this BMW?’ ‘They were following. That’s what it felt like. Maybe I panicked.’ He listened in a calm, generous way. But, the contrarian in me was not put at ease. If anything, I felt more wound up. By the time we reached East 101–299, I wanted to bolt. Daniel stopped in front of my apartment and shut off the engine. Bad sign. ‘I can walk you in,’ he said. ‘I’ll be fine.’ I unbuckled and clicked the door latch. The car started beeping and Daniel turned the key to full off. ‘What’s your security like?’ I glanced at the building and the no longer monitored, not-so-hidden camera. ‘Fort Knox.’ ‘If you want, I can check.’ ‘Not necessary, but thanks.’ A green Subaru cruised past. Rourke was looking after my ass. I turned to go. Foot out of the car. Daniel touched my arm. ‘We should talk.’ I had to pull my foot back in so I could turn to look him face on. ‘Are you going to fire me, after all?’ Daniel repressed a smile. ‘Hardly. How about we talk over dinner? Tomorrow night, eight o’clock?’ My forehead creased. Dinner? With the boss? The weird thing was, part of me wanted to say yes. Definitely wasn’t listening to my own advice. ‘I train tomorrow night.’ ‘In that condition?’ He nodded at my arm sling. ‘I’ll be ready for a light workout.’ ‘Friday then?’ ‘My shift starts at nine.’ He exhaled. ‘Are you avoiding me?’ I bit my lip. Why wasn’t I saying a simple, clear, thanks but NO? The aware part of me waved a warning flag, but something I couldn’t put my finger on kept me from fully acting on it. ‘I’m concerned about what happened to you, Ava,’ he said when I didn’t answer. ‘If you haven’t realised by now, I take a strong interest in all my people.’ People? ‘Your safety is of the utmost importance to me.’ ‘I can handle myself.’ I opened the door and stepped a foot on the pavement, shocked at the monumental effort it took to get my ass out of the car. Moving away from him, up to the sidewalk, seemed to help. ‘You can handle yourself?’ His brows went up, no doubt taking in my battered condition. It did weaken my argument. ‘Dinner, Friday at seven?’ He was persistent. ‘It’ll be very casual. Before work.’ I could just imagine what ‘casual’ was to a man in Armani. I wouldn’t have anything to wear. ‘I’ll text you.’ Yeah, I had put his private number in my phone. Judging by his expression, it wasn’t the answer he expected. ‘Thanks for the lift.’ I closed the door before he could say anything else, and headed up the steps. Daniel Bane didn’t drive away until I was in my apartment. A true gentleman. Once inside, I went through the four rooms of my apartment, flipping on lights: lounge, bed, bath and kitchen. Clear. The familiar scents of home, a mix of kitchen spices, vanilla candles and a hint of gun oil, made my shoulders relax. It also made me hungry. In the fridge was a rubber-banded bunch of droopy kale, two eggs and a black banana. I tossed the kale in the sink, rinsed out the blender, and then checked everything with the Geiger counter. A pinch of radioactive isotopes was supposed to be good for the immune system, but that was CHI Tech talking, not me. There were enough things to worry about without starting to glow in the dark, a real possibility with five melting reactors spilling contaminants worldwide, not including the old Fukushima Daiichi, which no one in the world seemed to know how to shut down, even after all these years. The Geiger read within the normal range, my sieverts measuring 1.1 mSv/y. Excellent. I cracked the eggs with one hand, peeled the banana, added ice, kale and a generous shake of salt. Yeah, I loved my sodium chloride and trace minerals. So what? My phone beeped before I could hit frappe on the blender. Probably Cate, bored out of her mind waiting for the tow. I answered. ‘Cate!’ ‘How was the ride?’ The way she said it … the tease. ‘I’m his employee. I have integrity and I’m sure he does too.’ I frowned at that. ‘Ava, you only live once.’ ‘He’s not my type.’ ‘Too rich, too smart or too good- looking?’ Cate laughed and I could hear traffic roaring by in the background. ‘Too …’ I was going to say, too much my boss, but my mind fogged up and nothing came out. I rubbed the back of my neck. ‘Tow truck’s here. Gotta go.’ ‘Get some sleep.’ ‘Yes, Mum.’ I tapped ‘end call’ on one device and hit frappe on another. The mixture whirled into a creamy green liquid. I poured the smoothie into a tall glass and downed it in long, appreciative swigs. My phone beeped again, a text message this time. I wiped my mouth and smiled. Cate wasn’t going to let this go. But when I checked the screen, one message flashed, unknown number. Not Cate. I tapped it open. Ice ran through my veins as I read the single, backlit sentence. Enjoying the green smoothie, Ava? The phone fell from my hands. CHAPTER SEVEN

The air in the kitchen felt thick and smelled of sour sweat. Mine. It was him, and he could be anywhere. Watching me. The idea took hold, like fingers around my throat. I tried to reassure myself, but it didn’t work. I sucked in shallow breaths, picked up the phone, blocked the number and turned it off. Like that’s going to make him go away. A noise jolted me from my thoughts. Someone outside, in the hall? I looked over my shoulder, waiting for a knock, or maybe for the door to be kicked in. Nothing. I checked out the window for parked cars. No drivers casually reading the newspaper. Not that I could see, at least. The view was limited by the maple. Listening for footsteps, I strained until I started to shake. Calm down! It was no time to lose it. I grabbed my water bottle and had a swig, eyes darting around my apartment. What if he is already inside? I went to the gun safe and grabbed my .32 NAA pistol. The bathroom, bedroom and hallway closet were still empty. All clear. No one appeared to be watching the place, but then, if they knew their job, I wouldn’t see them. Didn’t see the green Subaru either. I forced myself to pick up the phone again, and turned it on. ‘Call Rourke,’ I whispered into the mouthpiece. He didn’t answer. The call went to his front desk and I asked to have him paged. Why hadn’t he called me back? I put the phone down and checked the hall again. I started when it rang, adrenaline shooting through me. ‘Rourke.’ ‘You in trouble, Ava?’ ‘No shit. He’s watching me.’ My calm and quiet attitude was out the window. ‘I have a freaking text message to prove it.’ ‘Your attacker? He’s in the building?’ ‘Maybe. What do we do?’ I was hyped up anxious, but I did want to catch this guy. ‘Hang on.’ He barked out orders and was back to me fast. ‘Lee’s coming. Let him in.’ ‘Who?’ On autopilot, I buzzed open the entrance to the building. ‘Your tail. He’ll take you someplace secure.’ ‘But we could …’ ‘Ava, not going to risk it, not until you’re healed and can protect yourself.’ There was another pause. ‘Lee’s at your front door. Hall’s clear. You can open it.’ I did, keeping Rourke on the line. The guy looked casual in a Hawaiian shirt and jeans, but he had his gun drawn, eyes scanning. If anything, it made me feel even more nervous. ‘Stay here, ma’am.’ He started checking the rooms. ‘Ava?’ Rourke was in my ear. ‘Did anything happen on the way home?’ I thought of the high speed car chase, being run off the road, Joey’s truck. ‘We were followed, but he has my freaking phone number, Rourke. He knew what kind of smoothie I was drinking.’ ‘Are you sure it’s the man who attacked you?’ ‘Who else could it be?’ There was a pause on the other end. ‘You were followed?’ ‘By a white BMW.’ ‘Catch the plates?’ I pressed my palm to my forehead. ‘Nope.’ ‘See the driver?’ ‘Male. Short hair. Tinted windows. Nothing distinct.’ In other words, no war paint. ‘Unlock your phone. I’ll pull the text data and send it to forensics.’ ‘Can we trace him?’ ‘Not after he’s hung up, but we can locate the nearest tower, and with the time stamp, possibly narrow it down.’ I removed my password protection so Rourke could download the text time and my GPS. ‘Now what?’ ‘We’ll pull the security from your building. Who’s on live feed?’ ‘It used to be A&R but, you know … this is South Gate.’ ‘Damn. Never mind. I’ll run it myself.’ ‘Thanks.’ My voice came out thin and high. ‘I’m going to send the mugshots. Maybe it’ll jog something. You need to stay somewhere else for a few days. I can tell you’re …’ Freaked out of my mind? ‘How did he find me?’ ‘Calm down, Ava. Think of who you can call, but don’t do it until you’re on the road with Lee, in case the apartment’s bugged.’ ‘Right.’ I looked out from a fog of paranoia, gun still gripped in my right hand. ‘Lee’ll let me know where you are. Don’t worry. No one can follow him, if he doesn’t want them to. Pack some things and go.’ ‘Thanks.’ I tapped off. My adrenal glands were about to detonate. Lee double-checked my room, the bathroom and broom closet, and the hallway. Clear. I threw some things into my backpack, then opened the gun safe, retrieving the .32 NAA holster. It strapped neatly to my left ankle. Lee looked on, expressionless, in full sentry mode. I locked the safe and grabbed my toothbrush, reading tablet and gi, the standard white martial arts kimono I trained in, and my black belt. Cate had done laundry, so I threw a stack of it into my pack as well, and a box of contacts. On top went deodorant, tampons and organic herbal face cream. It would have to do. ‘I’m ready.’ Lee ushered me out under full armed guard. The sun was going down, the maple leaves dark and glittery, shadows as long as the street. I couldn’t imagine what the neighbours were thinking. Once on the road, I exhaled and told him where we were headed: UCLA student housing on Westwood Plaza. He turned in the complete opposite direction. I guess he knew his job. Meanwhile, I was on my phone, telling it to call Tom, my ex. We’d dated, sort of sporadically, in my sophomore and junior years. He was still a good friend. One of my best. I’d get an earful about the dangers of my work, but that was okay. I was confident he’d put me up, even though we hadn’t talked for a few weeks. My call went straight to voicemail. He was probably studying, or in class. Conjuring a breezy tone for the message was beyond my abilities, so I went with real: scared shitless. ‘Hey, Tom. It’s me.’ My throat tightened. ‘Look, a little thing’s come up.’ No point freaking him out yet. ‘I need a place to crash. Just for a night. Maybe two. Hope that’s alright. Couch free?’ I tried to laugh. ‘Don’t tell anyone. I’ll explain at yours. Heading there now.’ The phone beeped. ‘Your message has been recorded.’ I tapped, ‘End call.’ Headlights flashed by, and a few blocks later, we hit 110 South and stalled in rush hour traffic. I let the air conditioning blast my face, giving me goosebumps. My phone rang and I jumped. Lee looked across at me. ‘It’s Tom,’ I said and answered. ‘Ava. What’s happened? You missed our study date Monday.’ ‘I’ll explain. I just need a place to stay.’ Heat flushed my face; it pissed me off, how much emotion was running through me. What was I so scared of? Oh right, a murderer who left messages on my mobile. ‘Can I?’ ‘You’re full of mystery.’ ‘That’s me.’ ‘Of course. Come on over.’ ‘See you soon.’

* * *

Half an hour later, Lee dropped me at Tom’s student housing block. I took the well-lit stairs up to the second floor, knocked twice and let myself in. Still had a key. He’d never asked for it back. Like I said, good friends. But as soon as he looked at me, my shoulder in a sling, bruises fading on all visible surfaces and possibly wild-with-worry eyes, his posture changed. I started to explain. Midway through he was sending death threats my way with the bluest eyes in the world, a real summer-day-in-the- country blue. Tom. My ex. Rugged good looks, smart and growing angrier by the second. ‘You were hospitalised and I didn’t even rate a call?’ he said with his jaw clenched. ‘I was slightly unconscious. Made it hard to tap speed-dial number two.’ I crossed my arms in front of me. ‘I’m number two now?’ ‘Second only to Cate.’ He seemed to relax at that. ‘But you were attacked? What if this guy is a murderer?’ ‘I’m pretty sure he is. That’s why I’m staying here, if it’s alright?’ ‘Of course it’s alright.’ He let out his breath. ‘Sorry, was I shouting?’ ‘Yeah.’ I shrugged out of my pack and took a seat on the couch. It felt like a second home here. Hell, I’d practically lived with Tom two years ago. I guess our relationship had been more on than off, now that I thought about it. The domestic intimacy didn’t last, but being in his apartment, with the familiar sights and smell of books, coffee grounds, mandarin peels, recently burned toast and the faint trace of kitty litter, was soothing. Tom hovering over me was not. ‘How badly hurt are you? Rourke is looking out for you? Are you hungry?’ ‘Not that bad. He is, and I just ate.’ I patted the couch next to me. ‘Tom, sit down.’ Mental note: way to make a Cancer sun sign happy, ask them for help. They love to feel needed. He stood there, five foot eleven, fit as ever. He’d look good if he’d stop grilling me and unpinched his brow. Tom’s face wasn’t movie star attractive, in spite of the summer-day eyes and surfer-blond hair, but he had strong- featured good looks. Undeniable. Thomas Roth Macey also had more allure than most guys could muster on their best days. It came with the breeding, no doubt. He was from old- family DNA, where ‘old’ equals a ton of money that came over on the Mayflower, or something like that. Even though he rubbed shoulders with the rest of us common folk, his origins showed. I called it self-possession; others said arrogance. They couldn’t have been further from the truth. ‘Walk me through it again. You got out of work at Poseidon, you say? When did you start there?’ I gave him the short version, right up to the personalised text from the stalker- copycat murder suspect. When I was through with the story, he finally sat down. ‘You’re shaking,’ he said and draped a sleeping bag over my shoulders. I pulled it around me. It smelled like him, desert cactus under a hot sun, hint of sage. There was something else there, too, a trace of girly-sweet bubblegum. I chose not to let on I noticed. In spite of the other scent, the warmth and sense of safety had me letting go. Tears welled up for a second, but that was it. I hadn’t cried properly since I was twelve. No way was I starting now. ‘I need to look at mugshots.’ ‘Did you bring your laptop?’ ‘Not sure if it works since the ride in Joey’s truck.’ The hard drive had problems even before it flew off the seat. ‘Let’s try it.’ He motioned to the power strip under the coffee table. It had one space left. I pulled out my laptop and plugged in the cord. It felt good to have something to do. Hell, who was I kidding? It felt good to be taken in. I switched the machine on and immediately it started beeping. ‘Time of death …’ I looked at my watch. ‘Six-sixteen p.m.’ He laughed. ‘I’ll find you a loaner.’ ‘Really?’ ‘Someone owes me a favour, and I have to go see them anyway.’ I didn’t miss the use of the pronoun ‘them.’ It was almost inevitably a cover up for ‘her.’ I wanted to ask right away, but he was all business. ‘Use mine until then. I won’t be long.’ He switched his laptop over to guest mode and turned it toward me. ‘Great. Thanks.’ I figured he was off to tell Ms Girly Sweet that Ava Sykes, the ex-girlfriend now BFF, was sleeping on his couch. ‘Good luck.’ He raised a brow. ‘Yeah, I sorta have a …’ ‘Girlfriend? I know. Now who’s not being upfront with the cutting news?’ He shrugged, but I caught the blush. Blondies had trouble hiding it. ‘Long-term potential?’ I wasn’t letting him off the hook. ‘We just met. I’ll pick up something for dinner on the way back.’ I reached for my wallet and he motioned me to stop. ‘I’ve got it.’ Tom grabbed his keys and left. As soon as the door closed, Sim, his Siamese cat, stood up from her lookout on top of the refrigerator and stretched. After twitching an ear in my direction, she sat and stared at some imaginary spot on the wall. We’d never hit it off, that cat and I. ‘Don’t worry, puss. Not here for long.’ At the sound of my voice, she pinned me with her sapphire eyes. So like her dad’s. ‘Bet you haven’t warmed to the new girlfriend either.’ Sim lifted her paw and licked it before rubbing the back of her ear. I laughed for the first time in a while. Tom’s computer hummed quietly, soothing my nerves. I went straight to my CloudBox and downloaded the file from Rourke. After half an hour of going through grim but unrecognised faces, I took a break and searched for Daniel Bane. He was first up in the biz section, looking handsome and somehow impenetrable. No messing with this guy. There wasn’t much on his personal life: single, no birth date, home in Beverly Hills, of course. Holiday home in Baja California. Ensenada, to be exact. Trendy place to own some real estate. I tore myself away. Next, I went through my emails, and downloaded the lectures I’d missed. While they were heading to my Box, I googled Dr Miguel Rossi. ‘Why not?’ I asked Sim when she glared at me. Miguel Rossi’s faculty profile came up straightaway, along with a current image. Mesmerising eyes, wildly handsome … emphasis on the wild. Nothing I didn’t already know. His personal data was blocked, as expected. Anti-identity theft laws had tightened in the last decade, though appropriation was still rampant. I wondered if he was on any of the pop social networking sites — there were so many now, places to post your personal photos, thoughts and feelings, hook up with like-minded others yada yada yada. Probably not. He didn’t seem the type. A real bricks and mortar kinda guy. I scanned through Rossi’s published papers. He’d contributed to practically every scientific journal I’d ever heard of, co-publishing on the breakthrough in blood typology a few years back. I bookmarked the page, and searched deeper. Whoa. He was into some crazy shit. Rossi was instrumental in identifying many of the ‘newer’ blood types. No mention of mine, ABL+. That was L for Lividus, which meant black in Latin — not that my blood was any darker than norm, but black as in unknown, like a black hole. I read on, finding the notice of his recent position as head attending at South General Hospital ER. Saves lives, reviews grads, solves blood- typing mysteries … this guy had it all going on. Including a desire to put me under his microscope. Not going to happen. I swiped to move down his resume, checking out some of his papers on genetic and non-genetic blood disorders. I bookmarked them too, then jerked my hand off the trackpad. Shit! There, in bold, were the letters that had haunted me ever since becoming a ward of the State. CHI Tech. He’d worked for them? Was that why he wanted to run more tests? Had CHI Tech found me, after all these years? Because I had ended up in the ER under his care? It was too random, but my imagination started to spin out of control. I closed down the page. Too late if it tracked IP addresses, though that would take them to Tom, not me. My forehead beaded. Don’t be ridiculous, Sykes. I’d been on UCLA’s faculty website. It didn’t even have clickable links to CHI Tech, let alone any kind of surveillance. The screen would have gone blue if so. I tapped the browser’s settings quickly to check. Yep. Tom’s walls were up, running the latest version of Romulan, the anti-virus protection and cloaking device that cost an arm and a leg, but was well worth it. Feeling soothed, I went back to the relative safety of scanning mugshots. Nothing jogged my brain, so I switched tracks and looked up the serial killer Rourke told me about, the role model for Mr Sicko Copycat. Plenty of info on the original unsolved cases from the 1960s. That killer made headlines. Well, the murders did. No eye witnesses. Hang on! I found an article from 1962, an editorial. Someone claimed to have seen the serial killer dragging a victim away. There was a sketch. His face was painted, dark around the eyes. Lines on the chin. It was inadmissible evidence because the witness was tripping on LSD. Still, it looked like the copycat believed it. There wasn’t a whisper about the current wave of disappearances. I wondered how long the district attorney could keep the press locked out. I scrolled through some articles, including a psychological profile. If my stalker really was the copycat, there could be helpful info there, and oh boy, was there ever. I found more details, including descriptions of the ribbons tied gangrene-tight, and how he would keep his victims alive for weeks on end. Damn, I hoped he didn’t have Daina. That thought made me wonder … I typed her full name, the kernel of an idea forming. If she blogged, or has active social media posts, there might be information the detectives missed. You’d think they had checked, but what if they hadn’t? We were only acquaintances, but I was pretty sure Daina had a site. Most in the artsy crowd did. I found it fast. Daina Fleming. Age twenty. Undergrad. Fine Arts major. Cute little page with an art-deco feel, bright colours, bold geometrical patterns, a black and white tuxedo cat for her avatar. She used her blog as an art journal, and posted nearly every day; that is, she had, until she disappeared. I double-checked the missing persons notice. She’d been missing for three weeks. Last known whereabouts, UCLA campus. The most recent entry told another story: So excited. Celeste, Rachel and I have tickets to Poseidon’s midnight show. It cost a fortune, I know, but what a buzz. The art on Poseidon’s walls is renowned, a constantly changing expo, so this really is research. *wink* We’re going straight after the paleolithic show at the natural history museum. Double whammy. I’ll be reporting back, on the cave art and the night out. We all so deserve it. After that, it’s nothing but study until finals. Stay tuned! For Daina Fleming, after that, it was zilch, nothing, nada. Rachel and Celeste were linked to her blog. I sent messages to them both, saying I was investigating Daina’s disappearance. I included Detective Rourke’s name, giving my cell number underneath. So what if it looked like I worked for him? I was trying to unravel a mystery and save some lives, possibly my own. No harm in it. That done, I went back to the mugshots. While still only halfway through the files, the door opened and the light flipped on, sending me three feet straight up in the air. I realised it was Tom before my butt landed. ‘Isn’t this familiar?’ he said. ‘Me with the groceries; you sitting alone in the dark.’ ‘Working alone in the dark,’ I corrected. ‘There’s a difference.’ He plunked a bag down on the kitchenette counter and, more gently, a laptop on the table in front of me. ‘Find anything?’ ‘Not from the mugshots yet. Maybe a lead on Daina.’ ‘Who?’ ‘The latest missing coed. Ruby and Jane’s friend. You don’t remember?’ He shook his head. ‘Are you saying your attack is connected?’ It was hard not to spill my guts. ‘It’s only one possibility. Rourke’s working on it.’ Tom didn’t look convinced. ‘No one knows I’m here.’ ‘Right.’ He went to the kitchen, making a big fuss over Sim and opening a can of cat food. ‘You hungry?’ Me or the cat? ‘Starving.’ I closed down his computer and fired up the new one. I logged in as guest and checked. Romulan protection was active. Cool. Tom pulled a pizza base from the freezer. ‘You still in love with anchovies?’ His face turned sour. As if that would deter me. ‘Put them on my half.’ Sure as anything his next line would contain the word ‘permeate.’ ‘You know how they permeate the sauce, Ava.’ Ha! ‘Then why did you buy them?’ I went back to the mugshots when my phone buzzed. Tom was already walking toward me. ‘Ava?’ My hands shook as I read the text. ‘It’s okay.’ My breath released in a rush. ‘Just Cate, checking up on me.’ I sent her a quick message saying that I was fine, getting back to studying and we’d talk tomorrow. No point in making her worry too. Before the night was over, I had an email back from Rachel Paddington. She didn’t remember much of their night at Poseidon, other than it was ‘all kinds of fun.’ It sounded like drugs were involved. Expensive ones. When Celeste’s message came in, it was practically a cut-and-paste of Rachel’s. They’d had a great night. Literally amazing. Both girls assumed Daina returned to her dorm room, but when it came time for their lecture on Monday, she didn’t show. They searched her room. Empty. Bed not slept in. Police report filed. No word since. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was enough to take to Rourke. I was attacked near Poseidon, and that was the last place Daina had been seen alive. Maybe copycat was a patron who’d been to VIP and wanted to keep the party going? Or, maybe the guy had the place staked out for strays wandering home late at night? Both? After that, I looked up underwater hallucinations as side effects of prescription drugs, in case anything Rossi gave me would explain my oceanic extravaganza. ‘Medication- Related Visual Hallucinations: What You Need to Know’ came straight up with so many possibilities I closed the page. Mystery solved. Damn. I finished going through the mugshots. No revelations there. I skipped checking my Date Night profile for messages. The last thing on my mind was meeting a new guy. I fell asleep, hoping the dreams would be anything but aqueous; definitely not the sea. CHAPTER EIGHT

I woke the next day, Wednesday, with a kink in my neck and aches in my strapped shoulder. No big surprise. Tom made a fuss, bringing me coffee the way I liked it, and a big breakfast of free- range eggs and bacon, baked beans and gluten-free bread with sunflower sprouts. All organic. All radioisotope free. He didn’t spare expenses in the grocery shopping department. Had to love him for that. I sent Rourke my thoughts on Daina’s last known whereabouts, in case he hadn’t seen it from that angle. I also sent the big zilch on the mugshots and the link to the face paint article. That would gain me points. He texted back, If you’re recovered enough, go about your normal routine. Tail’s in place. We’ll catch this perp. Got it. ‘You have classes today?’ Tom asked as he shouldered his bag and grabbed his keys. ‘None, I’m picking up lecture notes at the library.’ ‘You want a lift?’ ‘I’ll walk.’ I crossed my arms. ‘Go. Rourke has me covered.’ Tom still frowned. ‘Might see you there later.’ He gave me a hug and left. I flopped onto the couch and closed my eyes for a moment, trying not to overthink anything. When I woke, the apartment felt subdued, peaceful. The light was soft. I stretched, reaching toward Sim, who perched on the arm of the couch. ‘What’s up, puss?’ She allowed me to scratch her chin. Then I looked at the time. ‘Shit!’ It was late afternoon. I took off the sling, had a quick shower, ate toast and poured some cat crackers into Sim’s dish. It might have saved time to text a classmate for the missed lectures, but the camaraderie this semester sucked. I guess fourth year medical science students leaned toward extreme competition, making them generally unhelpful when it came to sharing resources. It’s what happens when there are hundreds more applicants than seats for research internships, let alone med school. Never mind. The library had everything archived. I pulled the apartment door shut, leaving Sim sitting on the couch glaring at me. ‘Don’t even think about peeing on my pillow.’ I wouldn’t put it past her. Heading out into the world gave me butterflies. I guess I still felt rattled. When I reached the elevator, my phone went off, along with a shot of adrenaline up my spine. You’d think I was coming down off crack. After scoping the hallway, I pulled out the phone. The number on the screen was Dr Rossi’s, the one Cate had put in. Relief made me dizzy. ‘What’s up, doc?’ He didn’t laugh. ‘Where are you?’ I pushed the down button. ‘In an elevator. Where are you?’ He paused, apparently waiting for a different answer. Great. ‘I’m heading for the library,’ I said. He was silent at that response too. ‘Downloading microbio slides and catching up on missed labs. Anything else you want to know?’ ‘Are you healing?’ I rolled my right shoulder, still out of the sling. ‘Good enough.’ I heard traffic in the background. ‘Where are you again?’ Had he gone to my apartment? That would be on the creepy side of surprising. ‘Hospital. No sign of your stalker?’ ‘Plenty of signs.’ Since when did the ER lose its soundproofing? ‘But I haven’t been stalked in over twenty-four hours, if that’s what you mean.’ ‘I wanted to make sure you had this number.’ You and Cate both. ‘I do. Thanks.’ ‘Stay safe.’ ‘No argument there.’ I ended the call and turned off my phone. Perplexed didn’t begin to describe it, but I wasn’t going to let it addle my brain. I had too many other things on my mind. The biomedical library was a hike from Tom’s student housing. Good. I wanted the exercise to loosen up healing muscles and joints. Also, it would give my tail something to do too. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the green Subaru start up. I took in a lungful of air, and coughed it straight back out. Smog levels were high, and I smelled every murky particle; I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. On the up side, it would probably make for a spectacular sunset. I stuck to the sidewalk most of the way, then cut across a green strip to Charles E Young Drive South. Fifteen minutes later, the doors to Louise M Darling Library slid open, and the cool, dry, canned air hit me. I went straight to the reception desk with my request and ID, ignoring the stale scents. It was better not to think about where those nitrogen and oxygen molecules had been. The middle-aged librarian scanned my student card into his machine, clicked a few times and asked for my digital signature and password. I tapped it into the handheld, and went to the nearest bank of computers. I did a quick check for Tom. He didn’t appear to be around. There was a free machine in the back row so I wouldn’t have too many distractions. It wasn’t easy, resisting the temptation to search for more info on Rossi’s work, but catching up on studies had to come first. I was deep into it when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I jumped out of my seat, found my balance and readied for a front snap kick to the jaw. By then, my internal facial recognition software clicked in and I relaxed. ‘Hey, it’s me.’ Valery had both hands on her chest, her mouth slightly open. ‘Remind me never to surprise you again.’ She gasped a few breaths. I laughed. ‘Sorry.’ Val and I were lab partners in embryology and had spent some productive nights studying for exams. She was a house cat, though, not much for adventure. The mere mention of the word MMA frightened her, let alone clubbing. She’d make an awesome pathology team very happy someday. That was her aim. We hugged briefly, me staying as far away from her personal space as possible. ‘You missed labs this week.’ ‘Out of town. Do you have notes?’ She did, and wasn’t opposed to sharing them. She also had a lot to say about Daina and Poseidon. In the end, it wasn’t much more than I already knew, save for the lab notes. Those were helpful. We did a few practice tests online, compared results and chatted some more. ‘I gotta go, Ava. I’m on my bike and don’t have a light.’ When had the sun set? Time flies when you’re studying ribosomes, cytoplasm and chemotaxis mobility. My stomach growled and I wondered what Tom was cooking for dinner. I saved my files, shut down the comp and walked out with Val. She unlocked her bike and headed toward Manning Drive. We waved goodbye and I turned the opposite direction to catch the bus home. Five minute ride, perfect timing. The footpath took some navigation. People were going every which way, crossing the streets, all in a rush. In contrast, traffic crawled alongside, at a near standstill, brake lights flashing green, or to the rest of the world, red. Rush hour. A breeze came through the hedge of acacias, shaking yellow blossoms to the ground. I caught the scent of pizza. Somebody had just gotten takeaway. I spotted the green Subaru parked two blocks from the Amtrak bus stop, sandwiched between a Volkswagen and a white SUV. It was tempting to walk over and tap on the window, lean in and have a little chat with Lee and co., or whoever was in there, but Rourke would chew me a new one if I pulled anything that silly. This was as much about catching the perp as protecting me. I couldn’t resist glancing back. Two in the front, both reading newspapers. Classic. The foot traffic thinned near the bus stop, and the cars started speeding up. I took a seat on the bench to wait. Everyone else hustled by. A lot of students would walk it and save the bucks. I probably would too, but couldn’t resist the chance to be dropped ten feet from Tom’s apartment complex. I checked messages on my phone, for something to do. Cate had sent one. She wanted to meet up soon. I replied with a quick 4 sure . Tom had messaged asking if I still liked salmon. I texted back, Hell yes, home in ten . I was feeling quite demonstrative this evening. He messaged again, My friend’s here … k? I answered, Cool. No heart. My stomach growled again. Val sent a few more pages of notes straight to my Cloud-Box. She was thorough. Before I could respond to her, the bus pulled up bringing a gust of dried leaves, diesel fumes and litter. I had to wait while a dozen people got off, then I climbed aboard, swiped my pass over the scanner and looked for a seat. Wow. Empty. It was just me, the driver, and someone sleeping in the back, head resting against the window, dark blue hoodie pulled over their face. I wondered if the driver would wake them up at their stop. I swung into the first available seat, front row, opposite the driver’s side. The turn indicator went on, and the driver waited for a gap in the flow. Finally, we pulled out, moving through the gears and up to speed with the traffic. Streetlights flashed by, along with building fronts, trees and rushing pedestrians. I stayed at the edge of my seat. It was a short ride. My stop was practically on top of Tom’s Westwood Plaza apartment, four or five minutes, max. When I reached for my phone to check messages, my shoulder tweaked and it slipped out of my hand. Saved by the shockproof case, yet again. I bent to pick it up. My shoulder yelped this time and I fumbled the phone again. While I was down there near my boots, something caught my eye. A rubber band? No, a ribbon. I dropped the phone back into my bag. Seeing the ribbon had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, not that it would trigger a bomb or anything. I mean, a delicate bit of satin? I had to force my hand to keep steady as I picked it up and examined it: yellow, new, thin. Someone sniggered behind me. I snapped around and faced a dude, only an arm’s length away. He hung onto the overhead railing with one arm, head tilted down toward me. The hoodie obscured his face, brown hair falling into his eyes, but it didn’t hide the markings painted on his chin. ‘That’s for you, Ava.’ Reflexes screamed at me to act, but I kept it under control. I glanced at the ribbon and made to pocket it, then lightning fast went for my ankle holster, the one that wasn’t there. Shit. He pulled a gun and pointed it between my eyes. ‘Don’t shoot,’ I said, my hands flying up without thinking. The driver turned. ‘Hey!’ He was reaching across the dash. Couldn’t see what for. Psycho-stalker fired. Three shots rifled past me, straight at the bus driver. My ears rang as the driver slumped over the wheel. Dark patches bloomed on his shoulder, triceps and under one arm. I needed to breathe, but my lungs weren’t responding. Stalker laughed as he hung there, sighting the gun back at my face. The mask was skin smooth, like war paint. It covered his eyes in black, making them look hollow. Lines ran from his scalp to his brow, his lower lip to his chin. He started to speak, but the bus thumped over the median strip, clipped a tree branch and launched straight toward oncoming traffic. I ended up on my hands and knees while blue hoodie tumbled down the aisle. The driver spilled to the floor, freeing the wheel to spin. I gripped the seat, pulling up, ready to spring for the driver’s seat. Before I could make a move, the bus sideswiped a truck. My head cracked into the window and everything blazed white. I tried to blink the overexposure from my eyes. We hit the kerb. The bus groaned and tipped on two wheels. Grinding sounds came through the metal and jarred the back of my teeth. Sparks flew and the smell of hot steel shot up my nose. A tyre popped as we pitched over. The bus skidded on its side. I tumbled, hands and arms cradling my head. Twisting metal and breaking glass rolled with me. I smacked the wall, then floor, went airborne for one awful moment and landed on my back. The bus screeched to a halt. I shot forward, but the driver’s body blocked me from smashing into the dash. When everything stopped, I found myself face to face with a corpse. His dead eyes still held a look of pain and pure terror. As my vision shrank further and further away, I couldn’t help wondering about the spiritual ramifications of experiencing such an intense emotion right before death. Can’t be good.

* * * BangBangBang. What was that? Not gunshots. More like someone hitting a tin shed with a baseball bat. It mixed with the growing sound of hissing steam, water spraying and a rattletrap, spitting engine about to die. Bus crash. I registered that much. My eyes opened to a blurred reality, the world fuzzed-out, not a hard edge to be seen. BangBangBang. I blinked and wobbled to my knees, checking behind me for the sound. The bus rocked, moving in time with every kick of psycho-stalker’s leg. He was trapped under a crushed seat and bashed it with his free foot, trying to break free. The impact stretched the metal like taffy. He’d nearly wrenched himself lose. Holy fuck. I couldn’t move, but I needed to, fast. Go, Sykes! Get out! I turned back to the windscreen, which was on its side, along with the rest of the bus. Escape, damn it. Or you’re dead next. It took everything I had to struggle to my feet. My back hunched, unable to fully straighten. The windscreen was laced with fractures, but the laminated safety glass held. BangBangBang. Metal snapped as the seat finally gave up. He was free. ‘Aaa-vaa.’ His singsong voice was a blast of adrenaline to my brain. Without looking back, I dove over the driver’s body. A small fire extinguisher was mounted under the dash. I ripped it free and threw it at the corner of the windscreen. The glass popped like a cat food can lid and I flung myself out, hitting the street hard on hands and knees. Sounds and sensations blurred. Nothing registered. Where the hell is this? I stood. Keep moving. Slowly the world came back into focus. The bus blocked a crossroads. Cars were gridlocked both ways, horns honking and sirens whirling in the distance. Someone broke free from the gathering crowd and started toward me. I felt panic mode take over again as I turned away from the scene. Lumbering in a drunken gait, my knees kept threatening to buckle. Get the hell out of here! It was my only clear thought. I picked up momentum, orienting myself as I limped-ran toward a side street. ‘Okay,’ I said with an exhale. ‘Familiar territory.’ This connected up with Charly E so the UCLA police station was only a block or so away. If my perp followed, I’d lead him straight there. I started to hope the bastard would chase me now. They’d actually catch him then. Best-case scenario, for sure. I was getting real tired of these surprise hook- ups. Half a block later, the street turned into a minefield of concrete, rebar, flights of stairs leading to nowhere, broken windows and freestanding walls. A real Escher nightmare. Right, the construction site. Of course. They were demolishing these ruined buildings. As I navigated the rubble, the floodlights that were usually on all night went out. Gee, wtf? On the positive, it gave me a chance to check over my shoulder. Just me, so far. I focussed ahead, tightened my backpack straps and ran hard, but not for long. The environment came at me, throwing up obstacles like only a demolition site can. I took a hard left and leapt up a brick wall, teetering for a moment on top. From there it was a fifteen-foot hurdle to a stairway. Too far … couldn’t make it. So I jumped, hit the ground and tore across the broken glass and cement, up the stairs to the second storey of a gutted building. I could make better speed up here, stay hidden, then drop down on the station. I raced to the other side of the skeletal building. The light from the street behind came slanting through empty window frames. If I had my bearings right, the police station was straight ahead, a block away, two storeys down. As I took off, I caught a scent and made to veer the other way. Too late. Someone leapt from above and arms wrapped around my knees. The ground came up; I slapped it hard. Dust rushed into my lungs and I coughed while trying to scramble away. ‘You’re a slippery fish, Ava Sykes.’ His voice was rough, sure of himself. His breath came in and out in gasps, his grip holding tight to my legs. I freaked as he went for my waistband. Psycho-stalker-perv tugged at my pants, grunting. His lusty thoughts shot straight to my head. I jerked one leg free and shot it like a pile driver into his face. While he cursed, I scrambled to my feet and tore across the warehouse to a broken window. The glass was shattered, sharp angles jutting out like front teeth. I barely looked before I jumped, bending my knees on impact. I rolled to my feet and sprinted away. Unfortunately, it took me a while to realise I’d gotten turned around. The police station was behind me now, receding further with each stride. I vaulted over a series of slabs, all impaled with spikes of rebar. I could hear my assailant right behind me. The next set of stairs was an old fire escape missing more than a few rungs. I gained the third storey where the wall was blasted to bits. The climb to the roof was out of reach so I dove over rubble into another gutted-out level. Halfway to the other side, I heard the click of a gun. ‘Stop right there, Sykes.’ The laughter that followed came in gasps. Glass crunched as he kept walking toward me. I feinted left, then rolled over a shoulder-high divider and immediately tried to slow my breathing. ‘I have a present for you.’ My nostrils flared, taking in the scents. Fear mixed with concrete, mildew and oil. I had to take this guy down, but I had to remove the gun from the equation first. I waited until his footsteps were parallel with me and leapt. I flew over the top of the wall and smacked straight into him, clashing heads and entangling limbs. He broke free and swung hard, trying to cold-cock me with his weapon. I blocked with a head-high kick. The gun spun into the air, its alloy surface giving off bright pulses of reflected streetlight. I had plenty of momentum from the kick. I let it spin me toward the flying weapon. My eyes caught its last flash before it clattered to the ground. Three steps and a superman dive and it was mine. My fingers closed around the trigger just as the stalker grabbed my ankle. Face down, gun clutched to my chest, I kicked like a branded horse. Not enough. He jerked my body toward him. More thoughts of his lust and cravings bombarded my mind as he flipped me onto my back. I could see his other victims screaming underneath him, looking up into that creepy, painted face. Without hesitation, I tilted the barrel up and fired. The sound hammered my already shattered ears, the kickback slamming my shoulder blades into the ground. As the gunshot echoed through the empty building he fell, face first, on my chest. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. There was nothing but roaring in my head. I pushed him off and crab-crawled backward, getting away as fast as I could. He looked dead. No! The air was thick and tainted metallic. Blood. A lot of it. I started coughing like I was going to spew. Unable to let go of the gun, I checked behind me, in case he wasn’t alone. When I looked back, I screamed. The freak show was struggling to his feet! ‘Ava!’ His voice gurgled. ‘You forgot this.’ He held up a different coloured ribbon. Apparently he had quite a stash. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Couldn’t move. He was coming after me. Had I only clipped his shoulder? Bulletproof vest? Then why all the blood? My chest was wet with it. He lunged. I pulled the trigger. Automatic response. He went down, more blood seeping, thick and black across the ground. When he didn’t move, I doubled over and threw up. I wiped my mouth and, hands shaking, went to check for a pulse. I had tears in my eyes. Emotions welling. He had no pulse. Blood everywhere. I wanted to take him down, yeah. Apprehend his ass, not murder him. I started CPR. In the distance, sirens fired up. This can’t be happening. I kept pumping his chest until the blue lights were whirling under us, cops’ voices shouting on the street below. Still no pulse. The guy was dead. I rocked back on my heels. Dead because I killed him. I sat next to him, me and my would- be killer together in some gutted hell dimension where my dreams were being sucked into a black hole. In my mind, I watched this man’s life draining away, along with my cover, my goals of doing good, and any hope I ever had of saving the world. Saving myself. Tears flowed freely, running down my face, soaking my tee-shirt, mixing with his blood. I wanted to drown in them. I wanted to die. I staggered to the window and yelled for the cops to call an ambulance. I guess the sobbing kept me from hearing any noise behind me. When I turned back to my victim, he was gone. Not at all possible. I was over there in a flash, pulling out my phone and using it as a flashlight. A bucket’s worth of blood pooled on the dusty concrete floor. Wet boot-prints led to the opposite row of broken windows. I raced after them, leaning over the edge, scoping the alley below. For an instant, I caught a glimpse of him, jogging away. Jogging! What. The. Freak? I leapt over the edge and followed, tucking the gun into my waistband and tapping my phone. ‘Call Rourke!’ I panted. ‘Ava.’ He picked up. ‘What the hell happened on the bus?’ ‘Your copycat shot the driver.’ ‘Yeah, they’re pulling him out of the wreckage.’ The phone made static sounds. ‘Where are you?’ ‘Charles E, heading north, tracking him.’ ‘Are you hurt?’ ‘Banged up a bit, but I’ll live.’ ‘Eyes on him?’ ‘Not any more.’ ‘I’ve tapped your GPS. Sending two cars after him.’ ‘He can’t be far. He’s on foot, wounded.’ ‘Stay there. I’ll pick you up.’ With the sound of the cops behind me, I switched my phone to beacon and stopped running. Rourke picked me up five minutes later. By then, I was near catatonic. ‘Ava!’ He turned off the car and tore around to help me into the passenger side, checking me over, shining his damn bright light into my eyes. ‘Did they catch him?’ It was all I cared about. ‘Nothing yet.’ He handed me his water bottle and checked my head wound. I batted his hand away. ‘We need to stop this guy.’ Rourke got into the driver’s seat. ‘We’re doing a house-to-house.’ He shook his head. ‘That’s not your blood?’ ‘No. I shot him.’ Rourke looked grim. ‘You were carrying on campus?’ ‘Used his gun.’ I pulled out the 9 mm. ‘Hang on.’ Rourke grabbed the gun with an inside-out evidence bag, inverted it and sealed it shut. ‘This the same gun that killed the bus driver?’ Our eyes met. ‘Yeah. I guess my prints are all over it.’ ‘Maybe his too, and DNA.’ ‘He also left me this.’ I pulled the ribbon from my pocket. Rourke snapped on a plastic glove and took the ribbon, studying it closely before dropping it into another evidence bag. ‘You shot him and missed?’ ‘No. I thought he was dead. No pulse.’ I leaned back in my seat, closed my eyes and told Rourke what had gone down. In the back of my mind, hope flared. We had DNA from his blood, and maybe prints. I didn’t get a much better look at that painted face though. It was dark, and I was distracted with all the shooting and attacking and dying. ‘Why didn’t my tail grab him?’ ‘Trapped in traffic. By the time they reached the bus, you were gone. They didn’t know the perp was involved.’ Rourke shook his head. ‘Flanagan’s over there chewing everyone a new one.’ ‘Flanagan. Is he …?’ ‘You don’t want to know.’ ‘Bad cop?’ ‘Only if he doesn’t like you.’ Rourke laughed. It didn’t sound funny. ‘Can you work with a sketch artist now?’ ‘Definitely worth a shot.’ I wiped sweat from my forehead and we drove off. This was so not how I wanted my evening to go. Rourke drove me to Tom’s, his gun out as he led the way to the elevator. When we reached the apartment door, he called out, ‘LAPD! Open up.’ He searched the apartment, leading with his gun as he checked each room. Tom and a blonde girl watched wide-eyed from the couch. Rourke came back from Tom’s bedroom. ‘The place is clear. Stay put, Ava. I’ll come back to take your statement.’ He looked at Tom. ‘Lock the door after me.’ I was left standing in the middle of the apartment, under the sharp scrutiny of the two blonds. Tom went to throw the bolt and said something softly, but I wasn’t focussed on him. My eyes went to the girl … and that wasn’t a cute, or possibly demeaning, label for an otherwise adult female. She was petite, blonde and big-eyed, and seriously didn’t look more than sixteen. I turned to Tom, his expression becoming more freaked-out by the second. Oh, yeah. I’m covered in blood and Rourke just did a Gestapo sweep of his apartment. Explanation time. ‘There was an accident. Nothing big.’ The girl leaned back, hands covering her mouth. She wore sparkly nail polish. It matched the lace around the hem of her cutoff jeans. Defeated the purpose of ‘cutoffs’ I thought, but whatever. ‘Are you hurt?’ the girl and Tom asked at the same time. I threw out my hand in a ‘stop’ gesture and they both shut up. Tom was in the know, but not his girlfriend. The less she found out, the better. ‘Not a scratch.’ ‘But the blood,’ she said. ‘This?’ I held my shirt away from my abs. ‘It’s not mine. I was helping out in the lab.’ It was a worry how easily I could lie. Tom frowned; she remained wide- eyed. ‘A sample case for the hematology exams exploded.’ His brow pinched. ‘Exploded?’ ‘Yeah. Bang. They think it was a prank. That’s why the cops are here. We have some serious diseases culturing on campus. They want to come down hard on whoever did this.’ I could tell Tom wasn’t buying, but maybe the girl would. ‘Good news is, no pathogens.’ ‘Thank god!’ the girl said, swallowing my story. ‘And Rourke is taking your statement?’ Tom had crossed his arms. ‘Just ruling out a connection to the other night, is all.’ I went to the kitchen and poured a giant glass of water, added a pinch of salt and downed it while Tom introduced me to Zoe. I saluted her with my glass, put it in the sink, bloody fingerprints and all, and then headed for the bathroom. It wasn’t until I saw myself in the mirror that I realised they’d handled it pretty well. The right side of my head was caked with dried blood. Maybe I should have said a box of lab rats exploded on me. Too late now. As I peeled out of my soaked top, there was a knock on the door. Tom. ‘Ava? You okay.’ ‘Perfectly.’ ‘Can I do anything?’ ‘Depends. Did you leave me any salmon?’ ‘Maybe,’ he chuckled and walked away. I finished stripping and waited for the water to heat. The shower felt good. It washed away the fear that had been clinging to me ever since I had a gun pointed at my head, all the way up to when I pulled the trigger. I came out drying my hair with an olive-green towel. I knew it was olive-green, not tomato-red, because Tom was still in the habit of letting me in on those details. A quick check told me Zoe had gone home. Tom was putting salmon on a plate along with baked potato and salad. Good man. ‘So whose blood was it?’ he asked. ‘My stalker’s.’ ‘Is he hospitalised or …’ ‘He got away.’ ‘Same guy?’ ‘Yeah. Think so.’ ‘They have his DNA now?’ ‘It was all over the floor. Prints too, if I didn’t smear them.’ I sat on the couch and Tom joined me, a cold beer in his hand. ‘I know you lied for Zoe’s sake.’ ‘Did it work?’ ‘She’s …’ ‘Young?’ ‘I was going to say, she’s an art major. Not science. Your “exploding test tubes” sounded believable to her.’ ‘Art major, eh? In high school?’ I took a big bite of the salmon, closed my eyes and moaned. Simple things seemed so damn good right now. ‘She graduated last year, and she’s really talented, really …’ ‘Good?’ I said around another mouthful. He reached for my arm. ‘Ava, stop. Tell me how this happened.’ I gave him the story between mouthfuls and waited for his response. ‘We going to see the bus on the nine o’clock news?’ ‘Pretty sure.’ His hands were on my shoulders. ‘Look at me. I don’t want you taking public transportation from now on. I’ll drive you to work, for your shifts. Pick you up. It’s always after class hours, right? Don’t say no.’ I thought about it for two seconds. ‘Great. Thanks. My next shift is Friday night.’ We talked a bit more about how a gunshot wound patient could present with no pulse, and then moments later jog away. Tom actually referenced a few herbs that voodoo practitioners used to create zombies; not the brain-eating kind, but the no-pulse-for-days kind. ‘I don’t think that was it,’ I said as a knock sounded at the door. ‘He was too agile.’ Rourke came in with the sketch artist and took my statement. Tom stayed quiet, doing the dishes, though he came out when the artist was done, to have a look. My ex was listening to every word, picking up on the finer details I’d not mentioned. ‘We have footage of him coming off the bus crash, video from bystanders. It’s dark though,’ Rourke said. He checked over the artist’s rendition. ‘I don’t know how much that’s going to help.’ The painted face morphed his features into a ghost-like creature. I glanced toward Tom and lowered my voice. ‘It’s not far off from the 1960s sketch. The one that was dismissed.’ Rourke nodded. ‘I’ll see if the original’s in the archives.’ ‘We’ll run facial recognition,’ the artist said. ‘It’s a long shot, but forensics might be able to do something with it.’ The artist packed up his portfolio case and left. I sighed. ‘We’re going to nail this guy,’ Rourke said. ‘Just …’ ‘You need me to keep being the bait?’ ‘If you’re up to it.’ ‘I am.’ After the victims’ eye view of what this guy had done, my dedication was solid. When Rourke left, Tom was back to the couch, pressing for more info. ‘Tomorrow, Tom. I’m exhausted.’ ‘You kicking me out of my own lounge?’ ‘Yep.’ I flopped down and pulled the pillow under my head. Tom covered me with the lightweight sleeping bag. ‘I want to hear more in the morning.’ ‘I have classes.’ My eyes were closed as I spoke. ‘Soon then.’ ‘Sure.’ It took me all of a minute to fall asleep.

* * *

Thursday was a steady stream of uni work, and plenty of food via Tom’s nurturing gene. I finally got caught up on my classes, and actually felt physically healed, almost. Rourke had no luck with the DNA, drawing or the video. No surprise there. It was like the guy wasn’t in the system, but he promised me they’d find him. I hoped it’d be soon. So much had happened in the last few days, I’d completely forgotten about Friday night’s tentative dinner with Daniel Bane. Cate, on the other hand, had not. She called me about it first thing in the morning to remind me. I’m pretty sure she hadn’t been to bed yet. We talked it over while I braided my hair in Tom’s bathroom, phone on speaker. The meal before work thing felt odd, but every time I tried to get my head around it, I slipped into a nest of cotton wool. A warning tone sounded in the distance. It dissipated before I could decipher it. Cate insisted that it was Poseidon policy for security staff to get to know the boss. ‘He takes them all out to dinner,’ she said. ‘Or the shooting range. Something like that.’ ‘Why?’ ‘It’s good business.’ ‘More like monkey business.’ I wiped the mirror with my palm when it fogged up. ‘I’d rather be on the shooting range.’ ‘Ava, just go to dinner. You’re working anyway, right.’ I had to agree. ‘So you leave a few hours early and have a free meal.’ Silence seemed my only defense. ‘He has connections,’ she taunted. I stopped braiding my hair and looked at the phone. ‘What kind?’ ‘CDC for one.’ That had my attention. ‘With the board?’ ‘Go to dinner and find out.’ I blew out my breath. She was impossible to argue with. ‘Okay, but I’m dressing for work.’ She swore through the phone. ‘At least wear your long green skirt.’ ‘The one with the slit up the side? You’re kidding.’ ‘It’ll look great with a black top. Then all you have to do is change into pants and you’re ready for work.’ ‘Okay, but I’m keeping the Tims, if I go.’ She paused as if imagining the ensemble. ‘Perfect.’ ‘I’ll think about it.’ I swiped off, finished my hair and headed for the kitchen.

* * *

When Daniel rang, he said straight up, ‘How are you feeling?’ It was such a normal question, I ended up telling him more about the stalker calling after he dropped me off, and the bus crash–second attack two days ago, than I’d planned. ‘You aren’t safe in your home.’ ‘I’m at a friend’s.’ ‘Where?’ I had to fight the urge not to spill. ‘It’s secure.’ When he confirmed dinner, I couldn’t say no. Literally couldn’t do it. In the back of my mind, I wrestled with puffs of air. Worries became formless, especially with Daniel’s confident voice in my ear. We agreed on a time before I realised I’d said yes. I did manage to cut him short when he offered to pick me up. ‘I’ll meet you at Poseidon.’ I swiped off the call, thinking about him for a moment. His influence pouvoir — persuasive power — was not subtle. All I could muster was hmm. I went about my day on campus as if it was the same as any other, and tried not to be paranoid. The house-to-house search turned up dry, so psycho-stalker was still on the loose. By six-thirty in the evening, I was back at Tom’s, getting ready for dinner and work. I checked the mirror for bruises. They were clearing up fast; a good thing, as I didn’t have any makeup on. My skin was smooth and always looked beach-girl tan. My eyes were lined with black lashes, brows tame and gently arched. I think one of my parents had Asian blood, but I’d never done a test. I was curious, but I was more worried about my real DNA getting into the system. Besides, what difference would it make? We all came from somewhere. More important where we were headed. I shoved clean black jeans into my backpack, strapped on my ankle holster and retrieved my .32 pistol from the broom closet shelf where I’d stashed it. One last check in the mirror, and I was set. ‘You ready to drive me?’ I said, leaning my head into Tom’s room. He was hunched over his laptop, an empty plate and mug on the floor next to him. I stepped in all the way. Long time since I’ve been in here. ‘Sec.’ A moment later, he closed his browser, saved docs and turned to me. ‘Ava?’ I laughed. He was actually gaping. It couldn’t be my hair in its familiar French braid or the small gold earrings I’d chosen. He’d seen them a million times since gifting them to me three birthdays ago. Must be the green silk skirt and black lace top. He stood slowly. ‘I thought I was dropping you at work.’ ‘You are.’ ‘Dressed like that?’ ‘Dinner first.’ ‘With who?’ ‘The boss.’ He paused to grab his keys and wallet. ‘Is that wise? There’s a killer after you, and …’ ‘Relax, Tom. Rourke has me covered if anything goes down, and you know I can handle myself.’ Tom wasn’t going to sway me, but I did like to have his support. ‘What can happen?’ ‘Dressed like that, anything,’ he mumbled. We discussed it all the way down the hall, into the elevator, through the parking lot and on to Poseidon, the conversation verging on an argument. He didn’t think there was any universe where I should be having dinner with Bane. Way to ruin the ride in a perfectly luxurious Tesla. ‘Fact-finding mission,’ I said, trying a new tactic. ‘That’s what the internet’s for.’ ‘He knows people at the CDC. People on the board.’ Tom puffed up, ready to tear that line of thinking to bits, so I cut him off. ‘Don’t forget, you’re picking me up at three a.m.’ That sobered him. ‘I thought it was one a.m.’ ‘Friday night.’ For the next few blocks, he focussed on the traffic and I enjoyed the ride. My phone buzzed as we turned down Grand Avenue, an incoming call. I caught the screen. Rossi. ‘My doctor,’ I said to Tom. ‘Hey,’ I spoke at the phone. ‘How’s the shoulder.’ ‘Out of the sling and feeling fine.’ I waited for the real reason Rossi called. ‘Have there been any signs of …’ ‘The stalker? Yeah. He tried to kill me last night.’ ‘What?’ ‘Relax. I’m alive.’ ‘Ava, we should talk.’ He’d have to wait in line. ‘About what?’ ‘Your origins, for one.’ That floored me. I couldn’t respond. I mean, what could he possibly know about that? Tom pulled up in front of Poseidon. ‘We’re here.’ I played it light. ‘Off to work now, doc. Keeping the clubbers safe from the rowdies.’ I held the phone away, kissed Tom on the cheek and thanked him. ‘Three a.m. I’ll text if it’s later.’ ‘Be safe.’ Tom gave me a quick hug. ‘Is that Daniel Bane?’ Rossi said his name like it left a bad taste in his mouth. ‘What’s it to you?’ ‘You shouldn’t trust him.’ ‘And you shouldn’t tell me what to do.’ I hung up, tucking my phone back into my pack. Rossi’s opinion I couldn’t care less about. Daniel came out through the tall, black doors of Poseidon and a Caddy pulled up as Tom drove away. Jason got out and handed the keys to Daniel. He went back inside without giving me more than a nod. As Daniel opened the passenger door, I caught the scent of his cologne. Nice. Fresh and oceanic. I sat in the soft leather seat, wondering about Rossi’s warning. How the heck did he know Bane? ‘Ava, gorgeous. You look fantastic.’ Daniel took the driver’s seat. His eyes stayed on mine. No wandering to my legs or my breasts. ‘Thanks.’ He looked good too, but I kept that in my head. It didn’t stop him from smiling as I thought it though. He drove to a quiet cafe, fusion Italian, with checkered tablecloths and soft lighting. The air con filtered out the gritty night air and filled the dining room with aromas of freshly baked bread, olives, pesto and garlic. My mouth watered. Daniel ordered for both of us, in Italian. I found it a little strange to be out to dinner with a guy I hadn’t met online first. Even Tom and I had spent months chatting on Date Night’s science geek forum before we met face to face, and we went to the same uni. Bane and I didn’t know anything about each other, hadn’t met in a single online chatroom together. But in spite of that lack, the conversation was easy, the banter light as we enjoyed minestrone soup and homemade bread. There was only one awkward moment. Daniel said the security boys were happy to have me on board, which I took as an opening to tell him about my buddy, Jeff. ‘He trained me up and is solid as they come. Jeff’s been at Lucky’s since …’ Daniel shook his head before I even got rolling. ‘He’s not what we’re looking for.’ ‘Oh.’ How could he know that without meeting the man? It stunned me, but then more food came and Daniel started talking about his property in Baja. The ease and flow came back. I didn’t let the food woo me though, or his smooth voice. I kept the line drawn firmly where it ought to be. He was the boss; I, the employee. But somehow, even when I said it to myself, puffs of nothing-thought floated away on the breeze. ‘You’ve recovered remarkably well, Ava.’ ‘Not bad, considering.’ ‘Did they catch him?’ ‘No, but we have his DNA, maybe prints.’ ‘Does he have a record?’ ‘Nothing turned up.’ ‘Is he linked to your first attack?’ Lots of questions from Mr Bane tonight. ‘Think so.’ ‘Was there a ribbon?’ I choked on my soup. ‘Pardon me?’ ‘I have eyes and ears at City Hall, and you have a thin bruise around your wrist.’ He could see that? Even I needed a magnifying glass to pick it up. ‘What bruise?’ I held his gaze as the waiter swept away our bowls and replaced them with an oil and vinegar salad. ‘This one.’ He traced my wrist with his finger. I pulled back, dropping my hands into my lap. Time to ask a few questions of my own. ‘The girl who disappeared a few weeks ago. She was last seen at Poseidon.’ He frowned. ‘I hadn’t heard that.’ ‘The killer may be targeting people coming out of clubs.’ He blotted his mouth with a white napkin. Must be one of Teern’s. My ears pricked. Teern? Rossi had mentioned the name as well, in much the same way. ‘Did you say …?’ ‘That’s a valid point, about targeting people.’ Daniel cut me off. ‘They would be vulnerable, possibly disoriented. I’ll talk to Jason about securing the surrounding blocks.’ I looked him in the eye. ‘Who’s Teern?’ The waiter was back, refilling Daniel’s wine. I hadn’t touched mine. I was on duty in one hour. Daniel swirled his glass, watching the dark liquid catch the light. ‘Teern?’ I prompted him when the waiter left. He cleared his throat. ‘A sister company, you might say.’ His phone went off and he took it. There was a moment of quiet before he said, ‘I’ll be right there.’ So much for the main course. Daniel was out of his seat, a hand resting gently on my bare shoulder. I can keep you safe, Ava. Just say the word. Warmth washed through me at his touch. In the moment, it felt natural. Normal to hear his voice in my mind. ‘Forgive me, Ava,’ he said aloud. ‘I have something I must attend to. Finish your meal and take a cab to work.’ He dropped a stack of bills on the table. He seemed to have no qualms about telling me what to do. It made me bristle, vanquishing some of the warm feelings. ‘I’ll check in on you later tonight.’ He bent down and brushed my cheek with his lips, ending with a light kiss. Think about it. A rush went through me, and not the bad kind. He left and I took a small sip of my wine. Once he was out the door, I relaxed; I hadn’t realised how much tension was between us. Sexual tension, but I didn’t want to admit that, even to myself. With him gone, my appetite tripled and I enjoyed the rest of the meal, chowing down without reserve. I knew a line had been crossed, but I had a handle on it. I was in control. I also enjoyed the walk to work. Poseidon was only two city blocks away, no need for a cab. In the back of my mind, I made a note to look up this sister company, the one both Bane and Rossi had mentioned. Did Bane think I was undercover for some rival club? I pondered it for a while. How was Rossi connected? On impulse, I pulled out my phone. ‘Call Miguel Rossi.’ It went to voicemail. I left a very short message. ‘Hey, doc. What’s Teern?’

* * *

I emerged from the elevator at street level in my black jeans, Poseidon tee and boots. Headset switched on and ready for work. ‘Ava!’ Billy punched my shoulder as I took over for him at the door. ‘I liked you better in the dress.’ ‘Skirt, but settle down. Nothing to see here.’ I sounded cold, but my insides were smiling. Here at work, safe from harm, I could enjoy life a little. A ruckus started near the end of the line. I handled it quickly, but the night turned into a busy one. I rousted a couple of brawlers out of the ‘ladies’. Yeah, chicks had their share of fistfights too. We didn’t call it in, as they quickly kissed and made up, literally. It was nearly 1.00 a.m., two hours before I could clock off, when a voice popped my eyes wide open. I’m still watching you, Ava. The words were whispered, but I heard them like a knife cutting through the air. My head shot around, searching for my night-of-the-living-dead stalker. It was him, I was sure, but I couldn’t see anyone other than the people in the line- up, and Billy on the other side of the door. While I stepped forward to search, sirens whined and lights whirled. Who called the cops? We had the chicas under control. I watched to see if anyone would dart away at the uniforms’ approach. Nothing. A detective was out of a second car, along with another uniform, and they were headed my way. Crap. One look at the detective told me I was in a shitload of trouble. ‘Ava Sykes?’ he asked, not slowing his pace. Run! Such terrific inner guidance under stress … like I would run from the LAPD? But I wanted to. Billy, my hero, moved to intercept them, but I pulled him aside. No point him getting sucked into this, too, whatever it was. ‘That’s me,’ I said, stepping forward. ‘What’s the trouble?’ ‘You’re under arrest.’ My guts twisted, shooting adrenaline in every direction. ‘What the hell for?’ ‘Disrupting the peace, firing an unlicensed weapon in a public arena, and breaking and entering the establishment of Asian Jim’s on the night of the twenty-seventh. You’re also of interest in the murder of a BruinBus driver Wednesday night.’ ‘What?’ ‘You have the right to remain silent …’ No! No! No! This couldn’t be happening. Murder? No way could I have a police record. Sure, juvie had been an issue, but the judge, after my seven years on the straight and narrow, had been lenient. My record was sealed. ‘There must be some mistake,’ I pleaded as they patted me down, took my gun and cuffed me. How did this happen? The events of the other night came screaming back as they shoved me into the squad car, none too gently. The last thing I saw was Billy, joined by Jason, standing out front of Poseidon, staring at me as the car pulled away. I turned to face the back of the detective’s head. ‘Where’s Rourke?’ I was going to need someone on my side, and fast. ‘Ha!’ The man barked out a single laugh. He turned around and smiled. ‘You’re dealing with me now, Sykes.’ ‘And who are you?’ ‘Detective Flanagan.’ Peachy. CHAPTER NINE

By 2.00 a.m., sitting in a stark interrogation room, cuffed to the table, reality set like cement. The fluoro lights stung my eyes and my head pounded. I was beginning to wonder how I would make it back to life as usual. If I knew what that looked like any more. Detective Flanagan grilled me, and not just about the fight in the alley and Asian Jim’s but about the bus crash murder, too. Yeah, my prints were on the murder weapon, a DNA match on the body, but I was the lure in this fishing expedition. No way was I shooting bus drivers for fun. ‘What about the video footage? You have your perp on film.’ ‘Too dark.’ He cocked his head. ‘Could have been you.’ ‘I told you I was on the bus with him. I’m a witness!’ ‘So you say.’ Rourke’s note about me being reformed must have gone south, because the next thing Flanagan was referring to my juvie record like it was alive and well, not sealed. The bastard was trying to tie me to several other crimes, ones I definitely did not commit. What was up with that? ‘Let’s hear it all again, from the top,’ he said. ‘All what?’ I snapped back. ‘I gave my statement about the bus crash to Rourke, and now you. Short-term memory loss an issue?’ My patience was out the window, which was ironic since the room didn’t have one. Harsh light glanced off the angles of Flanagan’s face, making his eyes look hollow, his brow menacing. ‘Don’t get smart with me, Sykes.’ He slammed the table hard. I rolled my eyes. Bullies didn’t faze me, even when they wore dark navy suits, the coat button undone so their gun butt and holster were in plain view. After what I’d been through in the last few days, it wasn’t intimidating in the slightest. Flanagan had stubble on his jaw, the usual look around LAPD. The guy must have been up for days. ‘I want my phone call.’ I’d kept asking, and he’d been stalling, but I knew my rights. I looked over his head at the mirror, betting we were being watched. I raised my brows and mouthed the words, Phone call? He caught my glance. ‘All you had to do was ask.’ He pulled out a mobile and shoved it across the table to me. I grabbed it and tapped in Cate’s number. This probably wouldn’t go down well. It was her night off. ‘Ava? Where are you?’ At least she picked up. ‘Police station.’ ‘What for?’ ‘A bunch of trumped-up bullshit charges.’ I stared straight at Flanagan as I spoke. ‘Can you tell Tom? He was supposed to pick me up from work. Just let him know, I might be here a little longer.’ ‘I’ll tell Daniel.’ ‘No!’ I shouted. ‘Don’t bring the boss into this. I’ll have a court appointed attorney in the morning. It’ll get sorted.’ Billy would have told Daniel anyway. So much for keeping me safe. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’ I swiped off. Flanagan pocketed the phone and threw pictures on the table, stabbing a callused finger into the centre of one of them. ‘Does this look familiar, Sykes?’ ‘The sign says Asian Jim’s.’ I tried to keep my voice cool. Maybe the whole bus crash interrogation was to rattle me for his real motive: the Asian Jim’s shoot-up. ‘Been there before?’ A lump formed in my throat and I grabbed the water bottle with my cuffed hands, taking a sloppy drink to drive it back down before answering. ‘Not lately.’ No way was this asshole going to ruin my life. Over my dead body! One voice inside me bellowed a war cry; another, hunched in a corner, kept repeating, We’re screwed, we’re screwed, we’re screwed … ‘You know I’m under police protection in an ongoing investigation, right?’ ‘Let’s focus on one crime at a time.’ ‘Does Rourke know I’m here?’ Flanagan ignored my question. ‘Asian Jim’s is closed for repairs.’ He pushed another picture at me. Wow. I really knew how to take out a plate-glass window. ‘Someone didn’t like their noodles?’ He sat down opposite me and folded his hands. ‘Here’s the deal, Sykes. A woman of your description was seen breaking into the restaurant. We have you on the bus, a block away, at the same time.’ I kept my face unreadable, racking my brain for a way out of this. ‘Which is it, in the restaurant, or on the bus?’ ‘The woman crashed through the glass and disappeared across six lanes of traffic.’ Disappeared! So they didn’t have proof it was me, after all, which is weird as I bled all over that bus. I guess the c-note paid off. ‘What are you trying to say?’ He raised his brows. ‘I think you know.’ My breath released in a rush and I forced my body to relax. ‘It would be great if I did, Flanagan.’ ‘That’s Detective Flanagan.’ Seriously? ‘You accuse me of breaking into a restaurant only to dive through the front window? I’m not that crazy.’ ‘We’re not so sure. You were admitted to the hospital the same night? Multiple lacerations and a dislocated shoulder?’ Oh, boy. ‘Unrelated events. If you talk to Rourke —’ ‘Let’s hear it from you.’ My jaw tightened. ‘I clocked off work at one a.m. and was subsequently attacked by a man who tried to tie a ribbon around my wrist.’ I paused, staring up at him, waiting for the response. Nothing. He wasn’t in the know, or he was really good at deadpan. ‘Next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital. Sorry if that doesn’t solve your B & E of the week, but it’s what happened.’ ‘Breaking and entering?’ He folded his arms. ‘That’s what you think this is?’ The lump in my throat was back. ‘There was a double homicide that night.’ No way. I focussed straight at him, my eyes not needing to lie. ‘It wasn’t me. I don’t kill people.’ We stared at each other until a uniformed officer opened the door, breaking the moment. A woman strode in, her eyes going straight to mine. ‘Not another word, please, Ms Sykes.’ I kept my mouth shut as I did a double take. She was sharp looking, in her fifties, wearing a pinstriped blue suit. Thick iron-grey hair framed her handsome face. She carried a black leather briefcase and smelled like citrus and sea breeze, with a pleasant hint of freshly ground coffee. The woman was immaculate. Not a hair out of place. Flanagan took one look at her and groaned. It was the first good omen I’d had since the arrest. The enemy of my enemy … That’s right! I started at the words in my head. She faced me, extending her hand. ‘I’m Kathleen Jones, Ms Sykes, your attorney.’ The pretty picture building up in my mind fell to the floor, shattering to pieces. Attorneys were expensive; I couldn’t afford one. Still, if she could keep this arrest off the record, I’d do anything in return. Maybe she accepts payments? I took her hand and shook it. Please have a payment plan. Kathleen Jones sat next to me and opened her leather briefcase. That’s when I noticed the gold hinges and clasps. I’d had dozens of court appointed defense attorneys in my juvie days. None of them had gold clasps like these, or real leather briefcases. My very own, high-class, super-expensive attorney. I wanted to ask where the hell she’d come from, but nodded instead. ‘Thanks, I think.’ She smiled at me, but by the time she’d turned to Flanagan, there wasn’t a trace of humour on her face. ‘Detective Flanagan.’ Jones shook her head as if disappointed. ‘Do you enjoy tormenting innocent people?’ ‘I’m following procedure, Jones, and this woman is far from innocent.’ She flashed a form in front of him. ‘You’re out of line, Flanagan. Referring to a sealed file makes null and void anything you have initiated or derived from the materials. That’s just for starters.’ ‘You can’t —’ ‘Shall I list the infringements? Interrogating without the presence of an attorney. Withholding obligatory phone call. Undue force and psychological abuse …’ She made a tsk-tsk sound. ‘It could see you suspended, detective, or worse, considering the complaints already lodged against you.’ ‘What complaints?’ She flashed another page at him. Flanagan scrubbed his face, swearing under his breath. ‘It was an informal interview.’ I didn’t want to interrupt, so I held up my cuffed hands as exhibit A. My wrists were chaffed red, and starting to ache. ‘Not so informal after all, I see.’ Jones’s voice went icy. ‘Release my client, detective, immediately, and we will think of dropping our harassment charges.’ The form in her hand rippled between them. Flanagan was out of his seat, removing the cuffs, before his next breath. ‘Good.’ Jones pulled out her phone and photographed my wrists while Flanagan slumped back in his chair. She had her briefcase snapped shut the next moment and indicated for me to follow her. ‘We’re done here, Flanagan, unless you have anything you want to add?’ The detective stared at the space where I had been sitting moments ago, his jaw tight. We walked right out the door while he mumbled to himself. I liked this woman so much. It was dark outside, still pre-dawn. I was torn between exhilaration, and wondering what she charged for after- hours calls. Don’t worry about it. ‘Huh?’ ‘I want to see you next week, in case there’s any follow-up, although I’m not expecting it.’ She handed back my .32 pistol, holster and the contents of my pockets, which they’d confiscated. ‘Call this number and talk to my secretary for an appointment. We’ll fit it in around your timetable.’ Jones handed me her business card. It was as smooth as white marble and her name was etched in gold along with the logo — two parallel rippling lines like the glyph for Aquarius. Real gold flake? Either way, I couldn’t afford her services. She even had a Hollywood address. I stopped and handed the card back. ‘Ms Jones, thank you so much. I really appreciate what you did back there, and I’ll find a way to pay you, but there must be some mistake. I’m a student, and broke, for starters.’ Like I said, Ms Sykes, don’t worry about it. Your account is taken care of. ‘Just like that?’ I answered, then realised she hadn’t spoken aloud. Just like that. Okay. I had to deal with this. Hearing voices could mean brain tumour, schizophrenia, psychotic breakdown. I rubbed my left temple and tried to put the night’s puzzle together. I’d called Cate with my one phone call, and that wasn’t very long ago. Even if she’d reached Tom, he couldn’t have organised help that fast, and this woman was no court appointed lawyer. So how the hell did I conjure a top shelf attorney from uptown Hollywood to represent little ol’ me? I felt a nervous surge as the answer arose. It has to be Daniel Bane. ‘Was it …’ ‘Miguel, of course.’ ‘Dr Rossi?’ Absolutely not what I expected her to say. How had he known? Was he stalking me? ‘Right. I’ll get back to you on this.’ I made to hail a cab. Jones touched my arm, stopping me. ‘Save your cash. I’ll drive you back to campus. It’s on my way.’ I struggled with it for a second, while feeling the fifty-dollar bill in my pocket. ‘Sure. Thanks.’ What the hell, right? ‘I’ve an early class on campus.’ ‘Great. This’ll give us a chance to compare notes.’ She led the way to a grey Lexus parked a little further down the street and beeped it open. ‘Notes?’ I asked as I got in the passenger side. Did she study medical science as well? ‘You know, how you blend, trouble spots, men.’ She strapped in and started the engine. ‘They’re the hardest, don’t you think? Such a temptation, though. Take Daniel Bane, for example. You go there?’ ‘He’s my boss.’ My voice was ice- cold. ‘I haven’t gone anywhere with him.’ ‘Except to dinner?’ ‘Are you spying on me?’ ‘Protocol. You haven’t shared your allegiance.’ ‘Allegiance to whom?’ ‘That’s what we’re waiting to find out.’ The woman made no sense. I was beginning to wonder how she had managed Flanagan so well, because as far as chit-chat went, she scored zero on the conversational scale. Jones kept asking questions as we hummed along the near empty streets, questions I couldn’t comprehend. I was a fourth year undergrad. Decent IQ. You’d think I’d have more savvy, but no. ‘How long have you been a Lander?’ ‘A what?’ ‘Not from a grotto then? Still tethered?’ ‘Huh?’ I was way behind, trying to decipher her lingo. She grabbed a pair of sunglasses out of the glovebox and slipped them on. As far as I could tell, it was still pitch dark. ‘Ms Jones, I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ She studied me, keeping one eye on the road. ‘I see that. It’s fine if you don’t trust me. We just met, but you need to come clean with Miguel, before things become complicated. He’s your contact, right?’ Maybe I was in an alternate universe where this made sense to everyone but me. ‘He was the ER doctor on call when I came in.’ She pulled a bottle from a small cooler sitting between the bucket seats. The top popped and a faint mix of aromas filled the car, predominately saltwater and blood. ‘Help yourself.’ I swallowed a sudden dry feeling in my throat. ‘I’m good, thanks.’ Who the hell are you? She snapped her head around. ‘I could ask the same.’ She frowned. ‘You really are seamless. Rossi warned me, but I didn’t believe him.’ I had no answer for that. ‘Right here’s fine.’ She pulled over two blocks from Tom’s apartment and laid her hand on my shoulder. It was strong, cool. It seemed to soak up my nerves. In spite of everything, I relaxed a little. ‘Talk to Miguel, Ava. Whatever you’re here for, you owe him that.’ She had a little private chuckle. ‘I do understand your reluctance. You should have seen me, when I first came up for air.’ Was she talking about her student years? Prepping for the bar exams? ‘I’ll see you next week,’ she said. Her strong face, one that had handled Flanagan in two seconds flat, wasn’t one to argue with. You can trust me, and Miguel. That’s what we’re here for. Shivers went up my spine. ‘Call my secretary during office hours. He’ll book you in.’ ‘Thanks.’ I needed to sleep. This was all a bit too Fellini for so early in the morning. I faced east, watching the skyline light up with the approaching dawn as she drove away. Maybe I could crash for a few hours before things turned any more bizarre.

* * *

I was out like a light for fifteen minutes, twenty tops, when the blender whirred into action. I sat bolt upright, then fell back down to cover my ears with the pillow. There was a faint but unmistakable scent of cat pee. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? I threw the pillow onto the floor and groaned. You little stinker, Sim! My eyes opened a crack, stung by the bright morning light coming in the east windows. The curtains I’d carefully closed not long before were drawn back, blinds open wide. This was so not Tom. But apparently, it was standard morning-Zoe. ‘Did I wake you?’ The voice was sweet, syrupy. ‘You’re kidding, right?’ I groaned into the sleeping bag. ‘Smoothie?’ I sat up, stretching my back, blinking the memory of sleep from my eyes. There in the kitchen was Zoe, girl wonder, pouring three tall glasses of a bright-coloured liquid … red or green, take your pick. I sure couldn’t tell the difference, but since I was awake, I was hoping for green — kale, banana and coconut would be nice. ‘Sure.’ Might as well be nurtured while the offer was on. It wasn’t going to be a good night’s sleep supporting me during the day ahead. Zoe handed over a glass, her painted nails clicking as she let go. I took a sip and gagged. ‘You liquefy a candy bar in there?’ My whole mouth puckered as sugar exploded over my tongue. ‘You guessed!’ ‘What else?’ She tapped out the ingredients on her pointy glazed fingernails. ‘Ice cream, protein powder, frozen banana, raw egg, and grenadine for colour and a touch more sweetness.’ Red it was. My ex would throw up, for sure. ‘You and Tom been going out long?’ ‘Ages!’ She smiled like the Mona Lisa. ‘Our first date was on the new moon. Isn’t that special? Do you think he planned it that way?’ Not even a little. ‘Are you talking about the new moon two weeks ago?’ ‘I know!’ Zoe skipped back to the kitchen. She was wearing black leggings and a white crop tee. Her toenails were painted, each one a different colour. ‘Did they find the person who pranked the lab?’ she asked. It took me a moment to know what she meant. ‘Not yet.’ ‘So disrespectful.’ ‘Agreed.’ She picked up the third glass and took it to Tom’s bedroom. I was tempted to warn her, or him, but changed my mind. Some things had to be learnt firsthand and Tom’s food preferences were definitely one of them. I dragged myself to the kitchen and poured mine down the sink. Sim eyed me suspiciously when I held a smoothie- dipped finger out to her. She licked it, her sandpaper tongue giving me a quick rush of goosebumps. Surprisingly, the cat was on team Zoe. She loved it. ‘That’ll do, puss, unless you want to learn how to say diabetic ketoacidosis.’ I started the coffee maker with two scoops of organic ground coffee, warmed two cups under the faucet, and did the rest of the dishes while I waited. When the brew was ready, I poured, inhaling the rich aroma. A pinch of salt went in mine, and a splash of non-GMO organic milk in the other. When Zoe came out, the virtually untouched smoothie in her hand and a pout on her lips, I relieved her of the drink. Replacing it with the coffee mug, I nudged her toward Tom who emerged from the bathroom. Yeah, I decided to take pity. The girl needed all the help she could get. ‘Thanks, babe.’ Tom kissed her cheek. He was shirtless, wearing faded black drawstring pants. She leaned into him for a moment before picking up her gym bag. ‘I’m off to spin class.’ ‘I’ll walk you out,’ he said and took a sip of coffee. ‘Have fun.’ I nodded to Zoe and took my cup back to the couch. It was a little too domestic in the kitchen for my taste. I scrolled for Miguel Rossi on my phone and tapped ‘call.’ He had some explaining to do about this Teern company, my new attorney, and possibly other things that I wasn’t sure about yet, like my origins. I looked at the time after it started ringing. Seven in the morning wasn’t early for a doctor, unless he’d been on-call all night. Oh, well. He answered on the second ring. ‘Ava. Good.’ Weird hello. ‘Dr Rossi.’ I thought a formal approach would be best. ‘Did Jones take care of things?’ He said it before I could launch my attack. ‘About that. You want to tell me what’s going on?’ ‘I could say the same to you.’ ‘See, that makes no sense to me. I want to know how you knew to send Jones, let alone why you did it. And what the hell is Teern? I’ve been —’ ‘When are you free?’ he cut in. ‘Pardon?’ ‘I agree. We need to talk. I’m asking when.’ It popped my rant bubble. Rourke was expecting me today — Saturday mornings were his admin hours at work — and I was training in the afternoon, with study after that. I wasn’t working the following night, but had kids’ classes to run and my own training at the academy, which I needed to keep up now more than ever. ‘This afternoon? Before training?’ I’d find a secluded spot to call from. ‘I’ll pick you up. We can talk freely at my place.’ Um, no. ‘What’s wrong with the phone?’ ‘Too risky.’ ‘Give me one good reason why I should trust you.’ ‘Because, Ava, I can save your life.’ I waited several heartbeats. ‘I’ll call you after I speak with Rourke.’ And decide if you are as safe as you want me to believe. ‘Just tell me when, and I’ll be there.’ I clicked off, and shot a glance at Tom who had just returned. He headed straight for the kitchen. ‘What happened to you?’ he asked as he popped bread in the toaster and poured oil in the frying pan. I squeezed my eyes shut, still trying to decipher Rossi’s side of the conversation. ‘When?’ ‘Last night? You were arrested. I found out at three a.m., in front of Poseidon.’ ‘Shit. Sorry. Cate was meant to call you.’ ‘She did.’ He took a slurp of coffee. ‘By then I was driving to the precinct.’ ‘You came?’ ‘For all the good it did. They sent me away. Said you’d be a few more hours.’ Oh, boy. No wonder he looked like he hadn’t slept. ‘So sorry.’ ‘Not your fault.’ He sighed. ‘Kippers and eggs on toast?’ I caught a whiff of the salted fish as he opened the tin. My favourite breakfast was on the stove, something I had developed an instant love for when rooming with an Australian in my freshman year. This guy was too good to me. ‘Love some.’ ‘So tell me what the hell happened.’ I climbed onto the barstool and filled him in. He was even more suspicious of Rossi sending the lawyer than me. By the time he stopped the cross-examination, I’d nearly lost my appetite, paranoia returning in spades. ‘Definitely make the appointment with Jones though. Maybe you can find out more then. But Ava, be careful.’ ‘Gotcha.’ I took my breakfast to the lounge and sat at the coffee table, back against the foot of the couch. Sim crept in close, her nose working overtime. ‘I’ll save you some, little queen.’ She sat next to me, staring at my plate, making sure I did. ‘Big day?’ Tom asked as he stretched. I tried not to notice his biceps flexing when his fingers laced behind his head. ‘It’s filling up.’ I shoved a huge bite of kipper-topped toast into my mouth and fished out my phone. Today’s schedule looked intense. Study for biochem. Meeting with Rourke. Call Jones’s office, although it was too early for that now. I tagged it for later. Miguel Rossi? Bold question mark after his name. Cytology lab download available … shit! In thirty minutes. Training tonight, and it must be my turn to buy the groceries. I could stop at All Organic Foods off Sunset. I made a note of my bank account and cash. It was doable. Better make a move. CHAPTER TEN

While my cytology slides downloaded, I dressed in jeans and a faded UCLA tank top, cleaned up Tom’s kitchen, ran a load of washing and redid my braids. Yeah, multi-tasking. I took an hour or so to go through the lecture notes and slides, then caught a bus to the downtown precinct. Two visits in the last twenty-four hours. Yay. The air weighed heavy and hot, an energy sucker, just like the last three hundred and sixty-five days before it. Sure, it was June, end of spring term at uni, but every day seemed much the same — hot, dry, smoggy. If it weren’t for air conditioning, we’d all be dead … Paradox: if we didn’t use air cons, there wouldn’t be nearly the excess of energy pollutants contributing to the sultry brown, suffocating heat. Even with the ban on hydrofluorocarbons, the ozone was shot full of holes. No coming back from that. The vicious cycle wouldn’t resolve any time soon. I trotted up the steps, feeling the sweat run down my back and spread out under my arms. Inside the precinct, cold, dry air slapped me back. Better enjoy it. In a few moments, I’d acclimatise and it wouldn’t feel nearly so refreshing. I checked my gun at security, spread my arms and legs for the pat down — standard procedure and very professional — picked up a temp ID and headed to the elevator. Rourke’s office was on the third floor. I sat on the bench outside his door, waiting for him to finish an interview. Judging by the decibels coming through the rippled glass, someone was getting a kick in the teeth and it wasn’t Rourke. I took the opportunity to pull out my phone and give Kathleen Jones a call. Why not? For all the confusion, she’d so far been a major ally. Like Tom said, she may not be trustworthy, but there was only one way to find out. ‘Hi. I’d like to make an appointment?’ ‘Sure thing. What’s your name?’ Her receptionist was an extremely helpful male, lovely voice, who had me smiling by the time I hung up. I made a note of the date and time on my calendar. Another task done. The Virgo in me beamed. The rest of me ached to go back to bed. As I put my phone away, Rourke’s office door opened and a young cop exited, tail between his legs. Rookie, no doubt. Our eyes met and I gave him the ‘been there, copped that’ look. He almost smiled. Rourke called me in and I took the seat, warm to the touch. The paperwork on his cluttered desk was so high, I couldn’t see over it when I slouched. People didn’t realise how much admin was involved in his line of work. I wondered if Rourke had, when he’d signed up for the job. He passed over a tablet opened to another set of mugshots. ‘Recognise any of them?’ He went back to work and I swiped through the images. Half an hour later, I said, ‘Not a one.’ I turned off the tablet and slid it across the desk. ‘Dead end?’ ‘Not necessarily. I’m going to interview Daina Fleming’s friends again, Celeste and Rachel. Good work, connecting those dots.’ ‘I could ask Daniel Bane if …’ ‘Leave the questioning to me, Ava.’ I blew out a breath. ‘Sure, but what’s the deal with Flanagan? He was going to nail my ass.’ Rourke rubbed his jaw, a sure sign that he wasn’t going to say much. ‘New to the precinct. Former FBI, suspicious of everyone.’ ‘That’s how he opened my sealed file?’ ‘Maybe. Still not sure.’ Rourke leaned back in his chair. ‘He went over my head. Nothing I could do. Stroke of luck you had Jones pull him up on it. How the hell did you land her?’ ‘Doc-tor Mee-guel Rossi.’ I exaggerated each word like a talk show host. ‘What’s the connection?’ ‘I was hoping you could help me find out.’ Rourke scooted his chair closer to the monitor and I came around to watch. He gave me a quick look and snapped his fingers toward the other side of the desk. I sighed and went back to my chair. Rourke ran the background check, swiping the trackpad in a series of quick moves. I could tell he liked doing this. ‘Anything?’ ‘Hang on.’ The keyboard clicked under his fingers, then he was back to the trackpad. ‘He graduated Harvard, summa cum laude.’ ‘Summa …’ That tidbit hadn’t been on his resume. If it had been me, I’d have led with it, for sure. I guess he was humble, or had enough other accolades. ‘Means big brain, right?’ ‘Very big. How long ago?’ ‘Fifteen years. He has a string of letters after his name, more than the usual.’ ‘He doesn’t look old enough. Birth data?’ Rourke read it out, which put Rossi at thirty-two, eight years older than me, and a Capricorn, I noted, symbolised by the sea-goat; the mythical half-caprine, half-sea serpent impossible creature. It represented ambition, both pragmatic and mystical, something most people found difficult to combine. Interesting. ‘Was he out of high school at age twelve?’ ‘Don’t know, but he’s made some major contributions to projects with names I can’t pronounce. Senior lecturer, UCLA. Worked for CHI Tech.’ Nothing new there. ‘That’s it?’ ‘His nose is clean.’ He frowned. ‘CHI Tech took him to court for defamation of character.’ ‘And he lives to tell?’ ‘More than that. He won.’ I wondered if Kathleen Jones represented him. Rourke raised his brows, setting eyes on me. ‘Looks like you could have yourself a mentor in Rossi.’ ‘Maybe.’ ‘Ava, I know it’s hard for you to trust —’ ‘Anyone?’ ‘I was going to say men, or medical doctors, take your pick, but the point is, sometimes paranoia can be more dangerous than the thing that’s really after you.’ ‘Paranoia? I’ve been attacked twice in the same week, Rourke. I think my paranoia is justified.’ ‘Is it? You’re looking over your shoulder, suspecting damn near everyone. Hell, Ava, you probably suspect me of being the copycat as well.’ ‘I thought about it, but you lack motive.’ I laughed; he didn’t. ‘It’s easy for you to say drop the paranoia. You’re not the bait in this cat and mouse game. I am.’ ‘If I thought you were in real danger …’ ‘Two attacks and a bus crash, Rourke. That qualifies as danger.’ I said it a bit louder than necessary. ‘And you think it’s Rossi? The man who hired you the best defense attorney in the State?’ I clicked my tongue. ‘It’s not Rossi. I know that.’ ‘Then accept his help, Ava.’ Rourke winked. ‘Look what happened when you finally accepted mine.’ That stopped my comeback dead in its tracks. ‘Yeah, maybe you have a point.’ I stood to go, shouldering my gym bag. ‘I’ll think about it.’ ‘See you in class? It’s jujitsu tonight.’ ‘Planning on it.’ I patted my bag and left.

* * *

I took the stairs to ground level, submitted to the scanner again and collected my .32 and holster. With the cool air left behind, I found walking into the sweltering sun twice as brutal. I trotted down to the street, mulling over what Rourke had said. ‘Screw it.’ I pulled out my phone and tapped Rossi’s name. ‘I’m free.’ ‘Where are you?’ ‘Precinct. Downtown.’ ‘They didn’t arrest you again, did they?’ ‘No. Meeting with Rourke.’ ‘I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.’ Did he have a jet? Or maybe he was just around the corner. Clearly not at the hospital, which was forty minutes away, if there wasn’t another car on the road. I’d planned to grab a late lunch before he arrived, but a snack would have to do. I went to the coffee vendor up the street, looking over my shoulder. Rourke was right. I was beginning to see a potential killer in every face. Definitely not soothing on the nerves, or fair to the general population. I searched for something more pleasant to busy my mind and the thought of Miguel Rossi as sexy guy in my future popped into my head completely uninvited. I slammed the door in its face. Not going to happen, for so many reasons. Armed with a list of questions, I sat on the precinct steps and drank my coffee between large bites of a fresh nori roll. There wasn’t long to wait. Ten minutes later, he pulled up in a silver Audi. Nice. Rossi leaned across and opened the door from the inside. I got into the passenger seat, thinking he looked good in a strong, powerfully built, slightly feral sort of way. He was wearing dark sunglasses, making his chiselled jaw stand out, jeans that fitted perfectly, and a long-sleeved grey tee-shirt. Who was this guy? He wanted something from me, I could tell, but what? If Rourke hadn’t said he checked out, I wouldn’t be in the car with him. Yeah, I was a bit uptight. We ran out of polite conversation in less than a minute, then settled into an uncomfortable silence. Fun. I wondered if it would be this stilted if we were chatting online. I broke more ice. ‘So what’s the deal with Kathleen Jones?’ My voice fractured the air between us. ‘She owes me a favour.’ That made me blink. ‘So, now I owe you?’ ‘Not how it works, Ava.’ Okay. Every answer took me deeper into the confusion as the world rushed by. I checked the speedometer. ‘Speed cameras next two blocks.’ How could he not know that? He downshifted, and took a left on West Sunset. ‘Where’re we going?’ ‘My place. It’s a few minutes north. Is that alright with you?’ North? The only places a few minutes north were so upmarket I’d never been near one. I nodded, and again, the awkward silence settled in. After ten minutes of staring at highway 405, I tried a new angle. ‘Your paper on blood antigens and typology interested me.’ ‘Of course it would.’ Could he be this arrogant? More minutes of silence dragged by, so I got out a scalpel and cut deep. ‘I know you have links to CHI Tech.’ I was on the edge of my seat, ready to throw myself out of the speeding car if this conversation went south. ‘Had, not have.’ A cloud crossed his face. ‘I worked for them years ago. Not any more.’ ‘Before or after the Big One?’ ‘Before.’ I crossed my arms. ‘You’re not old enough.’ He looked at me like I’d just spoken Swahili. We took the Mandeville Canyon exit. Once an inland park, this bit of turf was now prime beachfront. I squinted as the sun made the seascape sparkle. Okay, a billionaire if he has property along this coastline. We wound our way down to the Sunset Strip Yacht Harbor, the sparkling sea opening up to show the new and extremely rugged California coastline. I was mesmerised, and scared shitless. That much open space, that much water? Um, no. Not for me. ‘Is there any progress on identifying your attacker?’ The subject change pulled my attention back. ‘Like I said, we met up again.’ ‘And?’ ‘I shot him dead.’ ‘What do you mean “dead”?’ ‘I mean, no pulse, no respiration, the usual indicators.’ He was a doctor, right? ‘Tell me what happened.’ His hands gripped the wheel. ‘He stalked. I shot. Twice. Point- blank. He wasn’t breathing. No heartbeat. CPR didn’t help. Then, when I wasn’t looking, he disappeared. And no, he wasn’t dressed in the latest fashion of bulletproof vest.’ ‘You must have missed his heart, if he didn’t go down.’ ‘Are you listening? He went down, alright. I was drenched in the bastard’s blood. Then he upped and walked away.’ I lowered the window, letting in the salt breeze, wondering why it was so hard to converse with this guy. ‘And the cops picking you up?’ I shut my eyes. Did he miss the part about the reanimated corpse? I was trembling. Saying it aloud was making it real again. I hadn’t fully processed this crap. Rossi put his hand on my shoulder. You really don’t know? I nearly flew out of my seat. ‘Breathe, Ava.’ I wanted to jerk away from his touch, but after a moment, the feel of it, the weight of his palm pressing down, the strength of his fingers, settled me. He was like a grounding wire. Calming. When he took his hand away to turn into the parking lot, I felt like I might float out of my seat. ‘Did you hear me? I shot a man dead and after a little rest, he bailed.’ I thought about that for a second. ‘No, he up and jogged away!’ It happens. The words were sounding in my head, but his lips weren’t moving. It wasn’t the first time. As I grappled with it, we pulled to a stop. I jumped out of the car before he was around to my side. ‘What did you just say?’ ‘It happens, Ava. You know that.’ He frowned as he spoke, as if rethinking something. I rubbed the back of my neck, and then lifted my eyes, taking in our location. The view swept all previous thoughts from my head. I’d only seen this harbour once, when it had been built, and that was a live online feed. In person, it was even more spectacular. A large chunk of the Aftermath funding had gone to repair the new coastline, making it livable, fast. Sunset Strip south of Old Ranch Road had never looked so good, so they said. Rows of yachts filled the berths, their tall masts rocking slowly in the wind. Rich people’s paradise. The scene stretched out in a horseshoe shape that covered a mile of coastline. ‘You live here?’ ‘For now.’ He gave me that quirky half smile of his. ‘I’ll show you.’ I guess a former CHI Tech employee who sued those bastards and won would be loaded. Like really loaded. Sure, I was expecting upmarket, but this? It was beyond the major leagues. ‘This way.’ He opened his arms toward the docks. I followed him down wooden steps, the smell of the sea hitting me full in the face. It was mixed with a bit of tar, creosote, gull droppings and fish. I didn’t mind. The water made me nervous though, as it would anyone who couldn’t swim. Rossi gave me an incredulous look, then went back to leading the way. Eventually, we stopped in front of one of the larger yachts. ‘This is you?’ ‘In the summer.’ The boat was long, maybe a hundred foot, sleek, white with a mast nearly twice the length. Under the bowsprit was painted a black jungle cat’s head in simple, sumi-e design. ‘Do big cats like water?’ ‘This one does. Leopard3, contender in the super-maxi circuit, Farr’s signature design. A classic.’ ‘I have no idea what any of that means.’ He laughed, and we crossed the plank and stepped aboard. Hello, vertigo. I paused to gain my bearings as the world undulated beneath my feet. ‘You live on this?’ ‘It’s the only place I can sleep.’ I scrunched my face. The guy had some quirks. Rossi led me around the decking until we stood facing the sea. The panorama was spectacular, if you liked such a thing. Personally, I felt freaked. Aside from the cool wind, and incessant rocking, there was all that water. It brought up my worst childhood fears. I couldn’t afford to go there. What’s wrong? I shot a look into his eyes and saw myself, reflected in his shades. My hair was down, sweeping around my face, my expression dumbfounded. Ava, can’t you hear me? I took a step back. What the hell was going on with this guy and my head? ‘Come out of the wind.’ He unlocked the cabin door. ‘We’ll talk inside.’ I followed him down the steps into a world I wasn’t expecting. The main room was huge, with dark teak floors, a plush black couch running down one side and oriental throw rugs and cushions. Light streamed in from the windows above the bulkheads. It didn’t look like he hung out here much. It was spotless. At the other end, just before the kitchen, there was a large desk and although it wasn’t cluttered like Rourke’s, I could tell he spent time there. An ultra-thin LCD screen sat in the centre, with a microscope and centrifuge on either side. There were shelves above the work area, filled with books, held firmly in place by black bands across each row. Next to his desk were multiple drawers, like a filing cabinet made of rosewood. I glimpsed the kitchen opposite his work area, which had teak cupboards, matching the floors. Beyond was a closed door. I took a seat with my back to the kitchen, keeping the exit in sight. Rossi sat beside me, turning to face me straight on. Oddly, he appeared to be a bit nervous too. It didn’t instil confidence. ‘You’re good at staying in form. I’m impressed, Ava.’ What is he talking about? ‘Jones said you’d have answers, but I’m only hearing riddles.’ And your damn voice in my head. What is up with that? He laced his hands together, thoughtful for some time. ‘Fair enough, but if you really don’t know, I can’t say much until I contact Teern.’ ‘Here we go with the Teern thing again.’ I crossed my arms. ‘What is it, really?’ He looked exasperated. ‘Ava, check around. No one can see us. No one can hear us. You’re safe to speak openly. We don’t have to pretend any more.’ Maybe it was the enclosed space. Or the rhythmic undulation reminding me I wasn’t on solid land. Or this man and his riddles. Whatever. I made ready to bolt. ‘Listen, Rossi!’ Heat rushed to my face. ‘I want answers and I want them now. What is this Teern company? Why did you send me Jones?’ I cleared my throat. ‘Thanks for that, by the way, but she said for me to take my questions to you. Here I am. I want answers, or I want the hell off this boat!’ He held out his hands, like calming a wild animal, or maybe fending one off. The look on his face was not what I’d expected. It was so perplexed it took the aggression right out of me, or most of it anyway. I slid back down to the couch. ‘Please. I’ve been on edge ever since the first attack.’ And the underwater hallucinations in the hospital, along with the voices in my head, aren’t giving me much peace of mind, either. He ran his hand through his unruly hair and started to pace. Was he muttering to himself? That couldn’t be good. ‘I don’t know what’s going on, Ava. You seem to have no memory, and I need Teern’s advice. I can’t speak freely without seeing him first, but he’s in the Atlantic.’ ‘Teern’s a person? Daniel Bane said it was a sister company.’ Rossi flinched. ‘You can’t believe what he tells you.’ ‘Says the guy who can’t tell me jackshit?’ He started ranting. Mid-sentence, Rossi turned to me. ‘Who are your guardians?’ Perfect. The question I hated the most. No. Not true. I hated the answer, so I didn’t say anything. I guess he could read it in my body language, because he started filling in the blanks. ‘Maybe you lost them in the Big One? Is that what happened?’ Great. My second most-hated question. I spoke just to shut him up. ‘Ironic, isn’t it? Thirty million lives were lost that day, and two of them had to be the only decent foster parents I’d ever known.’ ‘Foster?’ He cut me off before I could say more. ‘You can’t have been fostered.’ That was it. I snapped. ‘Stop right there.’ My voice cut like a filleting knife, and there was no space for him to answer. ‘I have news for you, boy wonder!’ I sucked in my breath as I stood to deliver a rapid-fire account of my hell-born childhood. ‘Abandoned as an infant, passed around foster care, buried alive in the system. Finally landed a decent family and they died in the Aftermath. Then CHI Tech had me. That’s right. I was one of their lab rats for over a year, until I escaped. Lived on the street. You don’t want to know how. Rourke, a beat cop at the time, introduced me to MMA, and a school that would have me. It’s been better since, but don’t you ever, ever fucking tell me I couldn’t have been fostered. Are we clear, Dr Rossi?’ When I was done, my chest was heaving and my eyes stung. He sank to his seat. ‘You don’t know where you came from?’ New tag. Stupid as hell smart person. ‘That’s your takeaway? Pay attention! My mother gave me up. No record of a father. Raised in the system. Foster parents died. It was no party beforehand, but it all went to hell after that.’ He shook his head, disbelief in his eyes. ‘It’s not right.’ ‘No shit, it ain’t right.’ ‘That’s not what I meant.’ I was beginning to wonder if I would ever understand this man. ‘Ava, I have no idea why you don’t know this, but you’re Mar, for the deep blue’s sake.’ He blew out his breath. ‘Ring any bells?’ Mar? Yes. Mar. Maybe I was marred, or marginalised? ‘Not hearing any ding-a- lings.’ He paled. ‘Mar. Of the sea?’ I stood there, waiting. ‘Speak English.’ He scrubbed his face with his hands. ‘For a start, you know you’re different, right? You have more strength and perception, far more, than you are using.’ ‘Are you kidding? I have to hide my abilities as it is. Damned hyperbolic phase of my …’ No, Ava, you’re holding back. His voice rang between my ears. ‘Get the hell out of my head!’ ‘Alright. Settle down.’ He was back to placating me. ‘I’ll speak aloud, but that’s another natural ability.’ He stared past me. ‘Maybe I know what happened.’ I crossed my arms and lifted my chin. ‘This ought to be rich.’ My patience was rice paper thin. ‘You were somehow abandoned …’ I started to walk out the door but he held up his hand. ‘Wait. Let me finish.’ Authority rang in his voice. It made me think he’d been holding back as well. I stood, arms crossed. ‘You have thirty seconds to make sense.’ I glanced at an imaginary wristwatch. ‘Without guidance, you grew up believing you were like the others, limited in so many ways. Social and cultural conditioning has defined you. Tricked you into thinking you were just like them. Maybe a little stronger, but that’s all. It’s left you …’ He stopped to search for the right word. Impeded? Arrested? Retarded? ‘I was going to say, underdeveloped.’ I didn’t know where to begin. ‘What “others” are you talking about?’ ‘Landers, of course.’ ‘Make sense!’ I shouted. ‘Humans. You can pass, but you’re not one of them.’ That tipped the scale from bizarre to ‘get the hell out of here’ instantly, but he sensed it and moved to block the door. Did I have to fight this guy? ‘You have to know that what you think, the thoughts that you hold in your mind, define what you’re capable of. You’re thinking too small, your perceptions are too narrow. It’s held you back in so many ways.’ What psycho-new-age-hippy school did you graduate from? I moved back a few steps, opening my peripheral vision. There was no other way out. A ‘hippy’ school called Stanford University where I did my first undergrad degree, but that was long before your time. He was in my head again, making with the telepathy. It was the last straw. I bolted to the right, feinted left and headed straight for the exit. I didn’t run two steps before he was on me, wrestling me down to the couch. ‘Let go!’ I hit him hard with a left hook. Rossi cut loose a string of curses in some foreign language. At least, they sounded like curses. I stopped struggling. He was surprisingly stronger than I’d expected. I had to think my way out of this, use brains, not brawn. ‘Let go, please,’ I said softly. He let go immediately, seeming surprised. ‘Ava, I’m not going to hurt you.’ He took off his sunglasses and looked me in the eye, holding my gaze while I sat up. For a moment, I was lost in the intensity of him. Neither of us spoke until he shook his head, breaking the spell. ‘We have to find where your guardians are entombed. And give you back the memories.’ I didn’t like the sound of any of it. ‘So they are definitely dead? And you want me to awaken more memories? On top of the night terror upbringing I already have stored in my head? No, thanks.’ I made to stand. ‘I can find my way home.’ ‘Wait, please.’ We had a staring contest that ended in a draw, both of us settling down at the same time. Rossi folded his hands together. Something flashed across his face and I could tell he’d made a decision. He spoke slowly, deliberately, like I was a kid, and not a very bright one. ‘Ava, what has happened to you is terrible, and I promise to make it right. All your people will help you, and we’ll find your mother.’ ‘You just said she was dead.’ He let out his breath in a rush. ‘This is worse than I thought.’ ‘How?’ ‘I doubt your mother is dead. That would be virtually impossible, unless …’ I held up my hand. ‘Let me stop you right there. Can you find my birth mother or not?’ The thought of having answers to my hereditary blood disorder seemed more important than any of the lunatic ideas tabled so far. ‘Birth mother?’ His brow wrinkled. ‘We can find your guardian, of course, but first, you need the memories. It might make you more comfortable with your hearing.’ I eyed him sideways. ‘I told you before, I hear just fine.’ ‘You won’t say that when you start using it.’ Bat. Shit. Crazy. He laughed. ‘I can hear you, at least. It’s your reception that’s blocked.’ He rubbed his hands together, like warming them in front of a fire. ‘The blood I gave you in the hospital should have triggered any suppressed memories, but maybe you’ve been too traumatised. We can try something else, a little more direct.’ Too traumatised was an understatement. ‘You still haven’t explained to me who Teern is.’ ‘He’ll have to approve any more disclosure.’ Rossi sounded like he was trying to convince himself. ‘It’s unprecedented.’ ‘Not instilling confidence with the mutterings.’ It was like we were having two completely different conversations. Times like these made me wish I was religious, or had some meaningful ideology at least; then I could call on a higher power to intervene, or at least protect me. Lacking any such thing, I decided to play along, just in case his rants were based on some fragment of truth. Summa cum laude, after all. The potential of finding my birth mother trumped everything. Could Teern know? Deep down, I didn’t feel Rossi would really hurt me. His intentions felt genuine. I decided to trust that, at least. Child services had tried to trace my birth mother for me years ago, but inquiries had dead-ended fast, or so they’d said. If I heard yet again, All records were lost in the Big One, I would scream. Tom had offered to lend me money for a PI. I hadn’t taken him up on it. Too scared of owing Tom that much, or maybe too scared I’d actually find her. It wasn’t like she was busting a gut trying to find me. But, hey, after the things I’d been through lately, ‘finding mother’ was suddenly the least confronting possibility in my life. I returned my focus to Rossi. ‘Let’s do it. Show me this memory thing. I want to find my mother.’ It was the first time he fully relaxed his features. ‘Good. You won’t regret it.’ He went to the kitchen and took something out of the shiny silver fridge, then opened a high cupboard. His back was to me, so I couldn’t see exactly what was going on. In a few moments, he was offering me a shot glass of pale, amber liquid, while chanting in some crazy foreign language that sounded like the one he’d cursed in earlier. The drink looked bathed in sunlight. Very pretty, which made me apprehensive. Seriously? Chanting? ‘No, thanks. I don’t drink.’ ‘It’s not alcohol.’ He kept his hand out, and repeated his last line of chant. His deep voice reverberated in my chest. ‘This will help. Trust me.’ He was well respected, an ER doctor, I reminded myself, a senior lecturer at UCLA. His job was to save people. Rourke said he was clean. He’d taken an oath: do no harm. I did the math, and took the drink, lifting the glass to my nose. ‘Water, salt, copper and something … sweet.’ I salivated. My senses screamed Yum! ‘Don’t analyse it, Ava. Toss it back.’ What the hell. I did as he said. CHAPTER ELEVEN

The liquid warmed my throat, growing into a slow, pervasive burn. I flushed, fingers to toes, but that wasn’t the half of it. The walls cracked and burst into tiny shrapnel and I was flung out to sea. Deep blue-green currents closed over me. My mouth opened, water filling my lungs. As I drowned, everything snapped into a crystal-clear view. There was a distant light. It must have been the sun, high above the pale, rippling surface. I panicked, flapping my limbs, trying to rise. Stop struggling! It was Rossi’s voice inside my head, again. That tripled my fear as I spun in circles, trying to spot him. Relax. This can’t hurt you. Like hell it can’t! The sea replaced everything I’d ever known. It was cold, the touch of death. Help me! I was swept up in a current and deposited back in that coral-encrusted graveyard, the naked woman rising again from her tomb. I threw my arms about, trying to swim away. The next thing I knew, I was pinned down on Rossi’s couch. ‘Let me go!’ I screamed, finally able to fill my lungs with air. He released my arms. ‘Ava, what’s wrong? What did you see?’ I struggled to sit up. ‘You drugged me, you bastard! Same damn hallucination as in the hospital …’ I didn’t finish the thought. ‘Ava, I gave you the memories, that’s all. Like I would a first risen Mar, transformed by the Ma’atta —’ I clocked him in the face with my fist and scrambled to my feet. ‘You roofied me!’ ‘Nothing like that!’ He had his hands up, as if I’d pulled a gun on him. Now there was an idea. Unfortunately, I didn’t have mine on me. Rossi’s nose was bleeding and he actually looked, not afraid, but mightily confused. I got my bearings and bolted for the door. Before I could reach it, lights flashed in my head. No! The sea swept over me again. Sykes, calm down, I coached myself. This has happened before. I’m hallucinating. Try to relax through it. The soothing self-talk lasted seconds before I was gliding along under the surface. Gliding? Yeah, it wasn’t so panicky, for the moment. Ahead, waves rolled over themselves as they broke toward a cliff-lined shore. I spotted pilings and made for them. They were at the end of an old wooden wharf. The rock bottom turned to white sand and the shallow water was brilliant aquamarine. From below, I could see a boy on the wharf, standing with his legs apart, holding a pole in his hands. It was twice his height, and attached was a line. No reel. He wore a simple, belted tunic that hung past his knees. That was it. The waves washed me past him until I could stand. My eyes homed in, observing every detail. His hair was dark and wild, the smile confident. Behind him sat two tabby cats with patient looks on their faces. On shore, a caravan passed along a dirt road. It was followed by Roman soldiers, but not contemporary; more like soldiers of Julius Caesar’s time. The pole jerked, drawing my attention back to the boy. He beamed like the sun, until clouds rippled across my vision. A storm came. A hurricane. I was submerged again, holding to the piling, currents rippling over my body, rain pummelling the surface. When it cleared, the waters were dark. Moonlight glowed, reflecting off the sandy sea floor. The wharf was abandoned. Scattered in the shallows were frayed ropes, broken shields and eyeless corpses. The boy, a teen now, his hair wilder and face hollow, his clothes wet rags clinging to bony skin, was curled up in the sand underneath the pier. He was in fetal position. Welts rose on his naked arms. Every rib looked like it would poke out of his grey skin. It made me weep. The tide rose and others came. Sirens. What had Rossi called them? Mar? They took the boy into the depths, slowly drowning him. I screamed protests, but something struck me. My eyes popped open, and I looked down on Rossi. He was sprawled over the dark teak cabin floor, out cold. As he lay there, I knew. The boy from my vision … it was him. I must be out of my freaking mind! My chest heaved as I sucked in each breath. ‘What did you put in that drink?’ I growled. He stirred, barely lifted his head. ‘My blood. Just a drop.’ ‘Your blood? What the hell? I have HIV to worry about now?’ Of course not. I gave … Not waiting to hear more, I ran out the door and down the plank. Wind whipped my hair. Gulls cried overhead and, in the distance, buoys clanged in time with the waves. I kept my hands out to the sides, trying to keep balance. The sky darkened. I looked up. No! The clouds were gone and a ton of water dropped on me. I fell to my knees, but before I hit the ground, I floated weightless, hovering over coral-encrusted reef. The sea had sucked me back down, but it seemed much deeper this time. I couldn’t see the surface. Around me was another underwater graveyard, and it wasn’t abandoned. The Mar people had the boy, the teen that I would have sworn was Rossi, if it didn’t mean I was going mad. He looked dead. Drowned or starved, or both. They laid him on a tomb, and surrounded him. I heard chanting. In my head. It sounded like that language Rossi cursed in: old, throaty. Sumerian? As if I would know what that sounded like. As they hovered over the emaciated boy, golden tendrils wrapped around him until he was completely mummified. Then, in the last moments before his face was completely covered, he opened his eyes. Wait, Ava! Come back. Rossi’s voice sounded in my mind. I gasped, sucking in a lungful of salty air. I’d come to in the middle of the parking lot. My body felt so adrenaline-ridden I was completely numb, except for the sting in my knees and palms. Ouch. Ava, don’t go. Stay away from me! I screamed, convinced he could hear my thoughts. I sure as hell heard his. The wind chilled the sweat rising on my face. I expected my hair to be dripping wet, my clothes saturated, but they weren’t. His blood did this to me? A drop? He’d called it memory. Try psychogenic mindfuck. Ava, when you calm down, you’ll see it wasn’t. You can hear fully now, right? You have to be careful … you’re disoriented. Shut up! Ava. Was he following? I didn’t think so, but his voice was like a bullhorn against my brain. I looked back toward the harbour. He wasn’t there. I’m not after you, Ava. I’m here to help. Then get out of my head! The Audi was locked. I tried the door a few times, jerking it hard. The metal hinges wrenched apart. Holy shit! Apparently social norms were not so limiting to me any more. I grabbed my gym bag from the back seat, and flew across the lot to the road. Traffic whizzed by. I stuck to the bike path, running uphill, out of the marina. I made it to the main street, not slowing down until I reached the Brentwood on-ramp. It would take me to the 405. I waited until my panting was under control, filling my belly with air through my nose and letting it out through my mouth. When my lungs weren’t pumping, I blotted the sweat from my face with my shirt, brushed off my jeans and stuck out my thumb. More rules broken. I never risked hitchhiking. Ever. Damn you, Rossi.

* * *

No one picked me up. People were wary of hitchhikers and with good reason. The wait calmed my nerves. The air stayed oppressive, sticky hot, but the onshore breeze sent a salt-kissed tang. It cooled my sweaty body. Heart rate slowed. Mind relaxed. Freak-out diminished. Hallucinations weren’t new to me. I could navigate the experience. Deep breaths, Sykes. You’re on dry land. I don’t know how long it was before a dark-blue station wagon slowed down. I took another deep breath, plastering a friendly smile on my face. I had to feel my hair again, convincing myself it was dry, not soaked from the sea. Here we go. The car pulled over and I opened the door. Woman. Smiling. Car clean. Smelled good. ‘Santa Monica Boulevard?’ I asked in a pretty steady voice. ‘Hop in.’ The woman glanced at my tank top as I closed the door and did up the safety belt. ‘UCLA?’ ‘Yeah.’ For all my Zen facade, that was the last coherent thing I said. Her air con hit me, and I was back underwater, breathing without air, holding on to the edge of a tomb. On it lay a tall, muscular man with wild black hair flowing over his shoulders and down his broad chest. There was blood everywhere. It made ink clouds over the tomb, drifting like shadows toward me. I backed away and something clutched my arm. ‘Are you okay?’ I gasped. Highway sounds rushed into my head, along with the drone of the engine. That’s right. Station wagon. Being driven to training. The woman at the wheel had her hand on my arm. I let out my breath and straightened. ‘Are you on meds?’ she asked. ‘Do you need help?’ ‘No, thanks.’ I swallowed hard, my eyes stuck to the windshield, hoping the world wouldn’t disappear any time soon. ‘I’m fine.’ My new friend started giving me her life story. I guess she was nervous and needed to talk, but listening kept me from going back under the waves, so I paid attention. ‘… then I graduated with honours. Journalism and women’s studies. You?’ I had to respond. Wasn’t sure I could. ‘Medical science. Undergrad.’ I grunted, clutching my gym bag in my lap, eyes still on the road. ‘Fourth year.’ ‘Is that the LA-MMA emblem?’ She touched it briefly. I nodded. ‘You train?’ ‘Since I was sixteen,’ I tried to say, but took too long. Fortunately, she kept talking. ‘I would love to do a story on that. How fascinating.’ She was all kinds of lit up. ‘I work for a small TV station. LA-Live. Heard of them?’ I shook my head to indicate no. ‘Nothing too exciting, yet. Started at the bottom; climbing my way up. That’s the plan. I’m ankle level now, maybe mid-calf. Mostly they use me to scout family interest stories, or if the weather girl is sick, I fill in.’ I grunted again. ‘Tell me about it. I want to hear what’s happening for women in self- defense and martial arts. That’s news I’d like to deliver. Can I do an interview? Film the class?’ I forced a smile and exhaled. ‘Sure.’ She launched into a new spiel. I couldn’t follow much. It was something like her view on the whole post-Big One economy shift. While she talked, my thoughts kept flashing back to the man laid out on the sunken tomb, and the blood that flowed red in the water around him. Red. That colour again, loud and clear. I tried to make sense of it while keeping up appearances for my ride. Not sure how well I did. ‘I’m Jen Bradshaw, by the way.’ She beamed. Maybe I was doing alright. I licked my lips. ‘Ava Sykes.’ My head started to clear, just in time to be let out at the kerb. ‘I’m busy this weekend, but how about you call me after Monday? We’ll set up for the interview.’ She handed me her card and I shoved it into my pocket without looking. She passed me her phone as well. ‘Pop in your number and we’ll touch base in a few days?’ I managed it and pointed to the academy. ‘I see. The training centre’s a few doors up? Fine.’ I held back the Tourette-like twitches and outbursts that were trying to rupture through my skin and made it to the sidewalk. ‘Thanks for the lift.’ ‘Nice meeting you, Ava.’ She waved as the station wagon pulled back into traffic. I took a few steps forward, and then a few more, until I found myself signing into class. I said something inane to the gal at the desk and headed for the changing room. The air was rank and sultry. I sat on the bench, leaning back until I felt the support of the lockers. ‘Ava?’ Jess stood a few feet away. At that point, I don’t think I could have said anything, even if I had a voice. ‘You run all the way here?’ Jess was a brown belt. Been with us for a few years. ‘We’re late,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘They’re already warming up.’

* * *

I sat for a while, clearing my head. Trying to, anyway. There were no more signs of the sea, or Rossi’s bizarre life story unfolding, if that’s what it was. Breathe. Focus. Train. My inner voice supported me while I unlaced my boots and peeled out of my jeans. I left my sports bra, tank top and undies on under my white gi, and tied my black belt on snug. You can do this. You need to do this. I took a few calming breaths, twisted my hair into a knot on top of my head and tied it with a band. It felt comforting, being here, immersing in the smells of training mats, old sweat, and stale smog. Very grounding. No air conditioning in our academy. Training was done under a philosophy that boiled down to two words, real life. Period. In the summer, it made Bikram yoga look like a South Seas breeze. I padded barefoot out of the locker room, bowed at the open doorway, and again at the edge of the mats, and joined the class. Warm-up was almost over. After what happened at Rossi’s, I guess I was lucky to be here at all, but I did cop a few looks. Some guys were glad to see me. They threw me nods and Jeff, my buddy from Lucky’s, gave me a thumbs- up. Hadn’t seen him in a while. Jimmy and a few others looked annoyed that I hadn’t bothered to show up on time. Fair enough, but I wasn’t going to explain. Each glance, supportive or cutting, jolted me. Damn, I was on edge. Who wouldn’t be? As I dropped to do push- ups with everyone else, our ‘professor’ came into view. Dom … One look at him and my edge magnified. Figures … He was a big guy, early forties, and so fit he might as well be built of concrete. Dom oozed street savvy, but unfortunately, he had some unresolved gender issues when it came to who should or shouldn’t be allowed in the cage. Probably didn’t help that I slept with him once, in a moment of extreme stupidity. It was a grudge point now, between him and Rourke, and me. Dom and Rourke had started the school together: Dom to help struggling boys, Rourke to help struggling kids. Spot the difference. Rourke wanted to make sure it was a ‘safe place’ for everyone, where safe meant the professors weren’t going to try and bonk you, even if you acted like you wanted them to. Well, shit happens … especially around me. But why was Dom leading? I went up to ask. ‘Rourke didn’t show,’ was all Dom said. Then he eyed my uniform. ‘This is a no gi class. In the cage today.’ ‘I only brought my gi.’ ‘You can wear your gi pants and sports top. Let’s go.’ Yeah, summary dismissal. I took off my belt, gi top and tank, and folded them on the bench, then got back in line. We did another few minutes of stretching, lunging, rolls and air strikes. Dom was always thorough. Issues aside, he didn’t like injuries, at least not those that could be avoided by a good warm- up and cool-down. I fell into the rhythm of training, trying to stay in the present moment on familiar, dry land. ‘Pair up!’ Dom’s voice sounded through the hall. Out came the pads, and with my first punch, I was gone, sucked into the sea. Rossi, in his marine incarnation, was back in my face, both of us floating about a foot over the bottom of the ocean. Our eyes locked, and a world flowed between us. Images came in flashes, a city sinking, children drowning, the earth cracking apart. None of it felt recent. He spoke in my head, but I didn’t pay attention to the words. So much else going on. Then it distilled down to the quiet space of the tombs, and the Mar people who rose from them. I tilted my gaze upward and found the sun. It looked miles above me, a waxy ball of rippling light far beyond the glassy surface. Panic surged and I lashed out, trying not to drown. Thwack. Thwack. Vinyl and white padding exploded into the air. Jess was on the ground, her wrist in her hand. Dom roared at me to hold off. He didn’t have to. There was nothing there to punch any more. The pads were obliterated. Everyone stopped; the room dead silent. Jess struggled to her feet, holding her left wrist. Shit. ‘Jess?’ I couldn’t tell how badly I’d hurt her. Dom bent to pick up a few bits of plastic and fluff. He straightened, studying the debris for a moment. He looked at me. I didn’t know what to say. He didn’t seem to either. In a moment, he was all action. ‘Continue!’ he shouted to the rest of the class. ‘Jess, bench. Put some ice on it.’ She looked grateful to be walking away … from me. ‘Sykes, clean this up.’ ‘Yes, professor.’ I tried to get my breathing under control on the way to the broom closet, bowing on and off the mats. I came back with the dustpan and brush. Dom still stared at the floor. ‘You owe for the pads,’ he finally grumbled. I nodded and swept up the mess. My knuckles were flushed and starting to ache as sensation returned. What the hell just happened? I tossed the sweepings into the garbage can and went to the bench. Jess had an icepack on her wrist. Her eyes were teary, her face streaked. ‘You need anything?’ Before she answered, Dom called out. ‘Ava, work the kicking bag, on your own.’ I hesitated in front of Jess. We weren’t friends, not as in hang out together anyway. But we were often matched in class, being close to the same size. There was mutual respect, or had been, before I hurt her. ‘Just go,’ she said without looking up. ‘Sorry.’ I padded away. Without anyone to brace it, the heavy kick-bag swung wildly, and I wasn’t even using full force. A few heads turned. My body jarred with each strike, the shock going from my leg up my spine to my shoulders and head. I used the sensation to distract me. It helped to picture Rossi on the kick-bag. What had he done to me? What did I just do to Jess? ‘Sparring, class. Let’s roll.’ Dom called us in. I looked over at Jess again. Beck, her friend and another training partner, sat by her side, holding the icepack. She caught my eye with a ‘you’ve done enough’ look. I didn’t know how to fix things. I didn’t even know what had happened. ‘Line up!’ Dom yelled, snapping me out of it. We sparred in a cage, twenty foot diameter with industrial-strength, vinyl- covered fencing made of posts and wire netting. It was the only way to keep fighters safe, otherwise they might fly into walls or out the windows. It kept the onlookers safe too. Our school’s octagon was pro and a lot of members trained here because of it. Dom called Jeff up first, and I almost rose, thinking we might be paired together, but Dom called on a newbie instead. Jeff made short work of the guy who outweighed him by fifty pounds. A few others went after that. I asked to be excused so I could keep stretching and working the kick-bag. No way was I going to go in cold, and while I kept moving, the kaleidoscope of underwater images stayed out of my head. ‘Ava, and Beck,’ Dom called and one or two guys clapped and cheered. Yeah, they wanted to see chicks fight. Degenerates. Beck looked stinking mad. Dom had a word in her ear. I was pretty sure he’d say something like, ‘Leave your ego at the door, Beck.’ But who knew? Maybe it was more like, ‘Go get her.’ Whatever. I was going to make damn sure I didn’t bench her as well. We faced each other, tapped hands, and fought. Beck was a big gal. It usually took a lucky break to throw her before she had me flat on my back. Not tonight. She must have been distracted by my earlier annihilation of the pads, because I was in, and she went down, just like that. I had her in a full mount, pinned to the floor, neck in a chokehold. Sure as hell though, her left fist was loose, pounding me. I didn’t feel it. Figured she was low on fuel and about to tap out, signalling that she’d lost. I didn’t notice I was bleeding until she stopped pounding and submitted. I stood up and looked at my feet, spatters of blood falling around them like drops of dark paint. Beck had connected alright, cutting me good, above the eye. ‘Get some “vas” on that!’ Dom shouted. Like this is my fault? I wiped my brow clean with the back of my hand. ‘On what?’ He did a double take. The bleeding had stopped. Dom checked it, then nodded and paired me with a guy this time, and then another. I beat them in a minute each and was amped for more. Yeah, I was screaming for more. ‘Jimmy,’ Dom called, and everyone held their breath, waiting to see who drew the short straw tonight. ‘And Ava.’ I could hear the collective gasp. He was putting me in the cage with Jimmy? My hands started to shake and I felt the sea lapping at the edges of my mind. Oh, hell … not now! There was some major discrepancy in our size, weight and gender category, a bit like a cattle dog, me, taking on a grizzly bear, Big Jimmy. A flash of the underwater world flooded my vision and I pushed it away this time. The adrenaline rush helped. Jimmy eyed me and headed for the ring. I’d never gone a round with him. Not that I didn’t think about it. He was good. Black belt, but better than me, technique- wise, and that was the best way to learn. Spar with your superiors, Rourke always said. One thing about Jimmy, he didn’t have a dimmer switch. The bastard could break bones when he thought he was losing. He was Big Jimmy for a reason too, with his fit, hard-ass body, driven by a colossal, off the hook ego. I couldn’t stop twitching as he walked to the ring. Of all the times I might be paired with him … Plus side, even if he pounded me to the ground, pain wasn’t really registering. But it will tomorrow, chica, I told myself. I resisted the urge to look over at Dom, slipped in my mouthguard and rolled my shoulders. Jimmy slapped his hand against my outstretched palm and then we touched fists. As I raised my hands to my face, the ring disappeared and I sank into a turbulent sea.

* * * There was no time to take in the scenery. Rossi was gone, and so was the sunken graveyard. Something sped through the water straight at me. I crouched as a huge naked Mar, with long, long hair and rippling muscles, struck. I’d dropped fast enough for his fist to glance off my shoulder. He pulled up short, spun around and went for my throat. I didn’t know why, but this guy wanted me like a shark wants tuna. I rolled away, giving him nothing to grab but watery space. He came again. I ducked, and he brushed right over my back, not avoiding my punch to his guts. He doubled over and we both rolled and sank to the bottom, stirring up silt as we wrestled. He pummelled me. It took my mind off the water pressing in, filling my lungs, muffling my voice. It was finally occurring to me that I didn’t need air to breathe. Hallucinations were like that, right? I pushed off the bottom and grabbed his back, a small fry clinging to a giant. He slammed his whole body against the reef, smashing me flat. Rock hit my spine, cracking my neck, but it didn’t hurt. It just pissed me off. I hitched myself up and wrapped my arm around his throat. Energy zinged as I squeezed, python tight. He floated forward to the ocean floor. In the distance, Dom’s voice screamed until it was in my ear. I was on the mats, covered in sweat, Jimmy beneath me. The shock of it loosened my hold. In one fluid motion Jimmy grabbed my arm, broke out of my chokehold and flipped me down, pinning me flat. I sucked in a breath. The sudden rush of air turned to water. The glaring light dimmed, and I was back in the sea. Heat coursed through me. I thought my head would explode. I laid into the Mar who held me down, driving my fist into his head. In two quick hip movements, I was out from under him and on top. I wrapped around him like an octopus, gained full mount and started smashing his face. The movements were slow-mo, my fists barely making an impact. But the spray of water that leapt with each strike slowly turned blood red. Red! It contrasted against the deep blue-greens around me. I kept up the pounding until he fended me off with an outstretched arm — the perfect opening for a head and arm triangle. I pushed his arm across and clamped his neck, vise-tight, until he relaxed, his defense giving way to nothing. I guess Mar don’t tap to submit. ‘Sykes, let go.’ From the surface far above, Dom’s voice drifted down. ‘He’s tapped out. Damn it, get off him!’ The ocean roared in my ears. The shouts amplified. Suddenly I was sucking in air, and sweat. The mats were soaked. The smell of blood invaded me as I was grabbed on all sides, wrenched from my hold. I fought against them, swinging, connecting, screaming, panicking. Then a splash hit my face, drenching me for real. I opened my eyes, wondering how long they’d been shut. ‘Keep her back!’ Dom shouted. His voice in my left ear sounded like he was chewing gravel. I felt at least four hands restraining me, vise-tight. Then I saw why. Jimmy was face down, freaking pulverised. I held my breath until his back rose and fell. Not dead. Okay … that’s good. I relaxed, dropped my resistance. With the two fingers I had free, I tapped Dom’s wrist, signalling submission. ‘I’m cool. Sorry.’ The air rushed in and out of my throat. ‘I lost it, but I’m okay now.’ ‘You sure?’ Dom’s sweat-soaked face was pressed into the back of my neck, his arms circling my chest in a death grip. ‘Yeah. I’m sure.’ I tapped again, showing him. Palms open, head bowed. Slowly they let me go, one by one, Dom last. No one stepped back until they were convinced I wasn’t the psycho ’roid bitch who’d just pureed Jimmy into mat soup. My breath steadied. They gave me some space, and Dom went to Jimmy’s side. Jeff threw me my towel. I pressed it to my face and it came away soaked in blood. I stared at it, and everyone around me. Jimmy was coming to, trying to sit up. His arms and legs were moving, very slowly, but still … relief washed over me. I hadn’t killed the guy and it looked like he wasn’t paralysed either. I swallowed hard. ‘I shouldn’t have come tonight.’ Dom looked up from the floor where he supported Jimmy. His face was full of questions, pain and maybe some fear. I nodded to Jimmy and the rest of the class, grabbed my gear and fled. Before I reached the lockers, Jeff caught up. ‘Ava, what happened?’ Yeah, he had my back, even when I was this far off the charts. I wouldn’t forget that any time soon. ‘I don’t know.’ I was sucked into the sea, attacked by a Mar. Not that I really knew what a Mar is. No point in telling him that. ‘I gotta go.’ I started to shiver so I slipped on my tank and gi, tying the belt, grabbed my bag and headed out, towel pressed into my temple. Jeff stuck to my side. ‘You need a lift.’ It wasn’t a question. ‘I can hitch.’ ‘Look in the mirror, Ava.’ He shook his head. ‘Just give me a minute. I’ll take you home.’ He kept me in his sights as he gathered his gear. He didn’t bother to change. ‘Let’s go.’ I could feel eyes watching as we left. Questions rang out, shooting into my mind, including Jimmy’s. What the hell? Is she doping? Need a 72 hour hold? How the fuck? These were queries foremost in my mind, as well. I didn’t have a clue how to answer them. When I stepped outside, I pulled the towel away. Blood gushed down my face and soaked into my white uniform. Jeff had it right. Hitchhiking was definitely not an option. In the shadows, the door to a green Subaru cracked open. A police light slapped onto the hood and whirled around like a beacon. The driver made to launch toward us. I threw my thumb up in the air. ‘All good,’ I said, waving him back. ‘Just training.’ My tail hesitated before switching off the light and retreating back into the car. ‘What just happened?’ Jeff asked. ‘Um … police. They probably thought I was attacked.’ I shrugged my shoulder and winced. ‘And they happen to be in our parking lot, why?’ ‘Long story. Can I tell you later?’ ‘Sure, if you promise you’re okay.’ Jeff opened the passenger side of his old Ford pickup and chucked our gym bags in the back. I barely noticed Togo, his dobi x standard poodle. No kidding, that’s what the DNA test down at the SPCA claimed. Jeff rescued the dog a few years back, when it was only eight months old, horridly mistreated, skeletal thin and about to get the green needle. You wouldn’t know it now. The Aftermath wasn’t much of a paradise for people on a moderate to low income scale, which was close to eighty percent of them. If they had it bad, their companion animals fared a lot worse. With so many homes destroyed and lives lost, surviving animals were left to fend for themselves. Dog packs roamed the south harbour district. Kids in gang colours used them for target practice. It was ugly as. Cats managed a little better, but not if they were caught. Inhumane. I gave Togo’s ear a scratch before I jumped in the cab. He licked the blood off my hand. Jeff didn’t say much. ‘Straight home?’ ‘Tom’s.’ Screw security. I didn’t have the energy to walk extra blocks, pretending to go to class. In my blood soaked gi? Sure thing. ‘You two back …’ ‘Nope.’ I laughed but it came out more as a sigh. ‘Staying there for a bit. I —’ ‘It’s alright, Ava. You don’t have to explain.’ He knew where Tom lived so I didn’t give directions. I closed my eyes and let the hum of the engine and the glare of streetlights dull my senses. ‘You’re a good friend, Jeff,’ I said as he turned onto Veteran Avenue. He nodded. No argument there. CHAPTER TWELVE

It was dark in Tom’s apartment. I left it that way and went to the window, checking the street below. My hands still jittered. I sat on the floor, back to the wall, staring into space. Sim stayed away after one good whiff, her nose going high in the air as she drew in my scent. I didn’t blame her. My gi stunk of blood, and sweat and fear. My hair did too. All of me reeked, in so many ways. My mind kept going to Jimmy, laid out on the mats, blood pooling around his face. I wiped my nose on my sleeve. The looks from my classmates floated by, haunting. They were shocked. Fearful. I hugged my knees up under my chin. Rossi’s underwater image rose. But you’re Mar, he’d said. ‘No!’ I shouted. Sim ran under the couch. Jeff had offered to walk me to Tom’s door. I let him. In the back of my mind, I wrestled with emotions I couldn’t even name. My heart skipped beats that were way too fast to begin with. Freaking calm down! I couldn’t analyse any of it rationally. I heard the key in the door. That didn’t even rouse me out of my state. The lights flipped on and I shut my eyes. Ouch. Tom’s footsteps strode to the kitchen. A bag touched the counter. Keys clinked. ‘Sim?’ A pause. He must have spotted me, because his body went completely still. I couldn’t feel a single current of air move between us. He stayed that way for the count of three. ‘Ava?’ Yeah, he’d spotted me, but I didn’t answer. I didn’t open my eyes. ‘Oh, shit! Ava!’ He was at my side, on the floor. ‘Can you hear me?’ Loud and clear, buddy. I nodded, still not opening my eyes. I didn’t want to make this real and I knew once I saw his face, and started talking, there’d be no hiding. ‘Ava, look at me.’ He turned my face with his hands, his voice warm, his breath sweet, fruity. It made me hungry. ‘Is there another apple?’ ‘Ava, open your eyes.’ I did and immediately wished I hadn’t. Miguel Rossi held my face in his hands, not Tom. Fear battled with desire. Not exactly sure what I longed for, but there it was. Both feelings were strong. I hovered between them. ‘They’re open. Now what?’ Rossi’s eyes had captured me. I couldn’t blink. ‘Where are you hurt?’ He was in full doctor mode, calm, gentle, taking my pulse as he talked. ‘Were you hit? Anything broken?’ Good questions. I didn’t think so. ‘I’m fine.’ ‘Like hell you are.’ He went to untie my belt, which was now soaked with sweat and blood. ‘Tell me what happened?’ ‘You roofied me! I’ve spent the afternoon at the bottom of the sea. Escaped in time to beat the living crap out of Big Jimmy, or maybe some evil Mar trying to tear my head off. Not sure which.’ He undid the last knot in my belt. ‘You aren’t making sense, Ava.’ Was he even listening? ‘Hey, doc.’ When my hand went to stop him from undressing me, it wasn’t Rossi I touched, but Daniel Bane. ‘Where did you come from?’ ‘What did you take?’ I felt Tom’s hands feeling for fractures. Tom’s voice. ‘You’ve hit your head again.’ But I saw Daniel Bane and I tried again to push him away. ‘Blood doesn’t come out of Armani.’ He ignored my babble. ‘Ava, either I’m assessing your injuries, or your ass is going to the ER. Which will it be?’ That didn’t sound like the sophisticated Daniel Bane I knew. I sighed, my hand dropping back to my thigh. Daniel gently unwound the bloody belt, opened my gi and sucked in his breath. I guess there was some damage there? Maybe bruising? ‘You’re as beautiful as ever,’ he whispered. Maybe not the bruises then … ‘I work out, when I’m not killing people.’ I thought about that. ‘Or being killed.’ ‘Ava?’ It was Rossi again, his cool, professional voice washing over me. He rotated my arms, one and then the other, over my head, up, down. ‘Your shoulder’s still in.’ ‘My back might be out though.’ I replayed the Mar slamming me into the reef. Or was that Jimmy, driving me into the cage post? I didn’t know any more. ‘Hands over your head. I’m going to need to see everything.’ That was Daniel’s voice. ‘I wouldn’t have let this happen to you. Why didn’t you stay with me?’ Okay. Inappropriate. He was my boss. Also, he was a hallucination. I was aware enough to know that. ‘Tom? Where are you?’ It would be easier if it was just him in the room with me. I lifted my arms and he peeled off my sports bra. His hands were gentle as he felt down my sternum, around my breasts, stopping at my heart. ‘Lean forward,’ he whispered as he traced his fingertips down my back, checking my spine, pressing ribs. ‘Damn, Ava. Someone hit you with a crowbar?’ I could swear it was Rossi’s voice this time. ‘MMA. It’s a contact sport,’ I whispered. ‘So you say.’ He was behind me, pressing his ear in between my shoulder blades. ‘Deep, slow breaths,’ he said, his voice vibrating through my chest. I did as he said, grateful for the air that filled my lungs. When he leaned me back and reached for the drawstring around my pants, a smile crossed my lips. He slipped my pants off and ran his hands up my legs. I tried to think of it as a purely professional assessment. My doctor, making sure I was alright. That lasted about two seconds. The air wafted over my body. Daniel’s hands were on my thighs. Daniel? I think he mumbled something about training not being so good for me and that I should stay away from Miguel Rossi. Or maybe that was my thought. It all blurred. Slowly, I drew my knees up and sat tall, my arms going around his neck. I pulled his face in to me. It felt right, comforting and warm, as my lips brushed his. So familiar. He hesitated, poised for a moment. I didn’t give him time to think. I wrapped my arms tighter, pressing up into his body. Kissing him was my ticket out of here, and I took it, full on the lips. But now it was Rossi absorbing my touch. He didn’t join in at first, but he didn’t resist either. Then he straddled me, keeping his weight on his knees, and kissed me back. The passion rose like a heat wave and I wrapped my legs around him, pressing my pelvis into his. Enthralled, I sucked on his neck, drawing in his pounding pulse. Warmth filled me with a rush of exciting scents. ‘I’ve missed this so much.’ ‘Me too.’ I bit harder and warm, coppery blood spread over my tongue. He didn’t seem to notice. He was doing the same to me. A rush of images hit me as my tongue exploded with pinpricks. Sensations rippled down my spine, then up into my head. I saw, not Daniel, or Miguel, but Tom and me, the night we first hooked up. It was like receiving Tom’s impressions, in full, living colour. The vision shifted through some of our more intimate nights. Then there was his dad, dressed in a suit that would cost me six months’ rent. Laughs. Arguments. A fist fight. I couldn’t tell who won. The images faded and I sobered. He was all over my neck. Tom! Oh no. His kisses were wet, his desire pulsing. I started to pull away when the door slammed shut. When had it opened? ‘Tom?’ Zoe’s small, shocked voice snapped me fully awake. ‘Fuck,’ Tom said into my face. He rolled off of me, swearing softly. I was on my feet in an instant, topless. Bottomless too. I stared at Zoe, licking blood off my lips. My euphoria evaporated, along with any trace of Rossi or Daniel Bane. Zoe stared at me, her mouth hanging open. ‘What the hell, you guys?’ I kinda felt exactly the same. Pretty sure Tom did, too. ‘Did you do that to her?’ she asked Tom, her voice not much more than a growl. She’s on my side? I was impressed. ‘God, you’re bleeding too!’ Tom’s hand went to his neck. ‘Were you trying to kill each other?’ Sorta the opposite, but it wasn’t Tom in my head, not most of the time, anyway. I glanced down at my stark naked body. How to explain? There was a fair bit of blood crusting over my skin, and my nose had started bleeding again. This looked all kinds of bad. Because it is bad. Why had I been sexing it up with Tom? Right, I thought he was one of the other guys my body was hot for. I didn’t want Tom, not like this, did I? We were over. I sure as hell didn’t want to drag Zoe into it, or hurt her. This had to hurt, right? Bad. I cleared my throat, but that’s as far as I could go with an explanation. Maybe Tom could take it from here. Somehow I thought he was someone else didn’t seem like it would cut it. Tom was useless. Dumbstruck. His shirt was off. His belt buckle was undone, hard-on undeniable, hand still clamped over his neck, where I’d bitten him. Bitten him! Add that to my list of messed up psycho behaviours. He was either trying to hide it or stop the bleeding, I wasn’t sure. I cleared my throat a few more times. ‘Zoe, I can explain.’ ‘Seriously?’ Her arms were crossed, her expression wicked. ‘How?’ She further impressed me. Zoe wasn’t crying, sobbing over victim rationales or simpering about being betrayed, or whatever had just happened. Nor was she trying to zone out, like me. She sure had some balls in this situation, some presence. I could learn from her. ‘I’m waiting.’ Zoe’s jaw was so tight I could hear her teeth grind. What the hell, Tom. You said you guys were over. ‘We are over!’ I answered before realising I’d picked that thought straight out of Zoe’s head. Or imagined I did … Are we over? I heard Tom wonder. Bloody hell. This was way too confusing for me. Tom pulled on his shirt, buying time. I thought about how to answer. Direct honesty was the only way out. Whatever had caused Tom to join in our little blast-that-was-better-than-the-past make-out session, was for him to sort out with her, not me. We weren’t together. My head cleared at the thought. I had some things of my own to deal with, and thanks to Zoe walking in on us, I was out of the fantasy and back in charge, more or less. ‘Zoe, this is weird, I know. Maybe we’re having some pas de trois Neptune transit?’ ‘Really? You’re going to blame this on astrology?’ Tom said out the side of his mouth. He’d never been a huge fan of the stars. ‘Not blaming. Just saying, extenuating circumstances, that’s all.’ I swept up my gi and undies, and looked Zoe in the eye. ‘Here’s the deal. I was hurt bad tonight at training. Tom checked my injuries and I zoned in and out.’ I knew what I was going to say next would hurt Tom. Had to say it though, for all concerned. ‘To be honest, I thought he was my doctor and this other guy … um.’ Maybe I shouldn’t over-complicate the story. If her brows pinched any tighter her face would crack. ‘You do that stuff with your doctor?’ ‘It was the first time.’ Tom stared at me. Sorry, Tom. ‘You didn’t think I was trying to start things up again, did you?’ I spoke to him softly and caught his wince. ‘Of course not. It was a weird time warp, is all.’ Zoe looked from me to Tom, and back to me. ‘What kind of training?’ she asked, nodding at the blood spattered gi in my hand. It wasn’t what I’d expected her to focus on. ‘It’s the LA branch of Mixed Martial Arts. Mostly jujitsu, but kickboxing, judo, wrestling.’ I let my voice trail off as Tom glared at me. Zoe mulled that over while I became increasingly aware of my nakedness. Tom put on his ‘I’m hurt, you can’t see me’ face and turned to Zoe. ‘Like she said, I was checking her injuries and, we have a lot of history. It’s in the past. It won’t happen again.’ I suddenly felt like a third wheel. Tom stepped closer to her. ‘Zoe. I’m really sorry. I know we haven’t been going out long but …’ My cue to leave. I went to clean up. I’d probably need somewhere else to stay now. Way to mess up your safe haven, Ava. I used a ton of hot water, letting the shower wash away the blood and sweat. It drowned out Tom and Zoe in the next room too, a big plus. Maybe they were having make-up sex, the whole situation being some kind of a turn-on. ‘Well, somebody ought to be enjoying themselves,’ I muttered, as water beat down on my shoulders. My thoughts started to settle. Rossi had some explaining to do. As I pictured him, the boy on the wharf came to mind. What had happened to him, that he went from a smiling child, fishing in the sun, to the emaciated one, dying under the pier? Was it real? I shivered in spite of the heat. I washed blood out of my hair, remembering Rossi claimed he could find my mother, or my guardian. Whatever he meant, there was a chance that this Teern had information about my past, or knew how to track it down. I had a meeting set up with Kathleen Jones … maybe she could help. Or maybe it was all a strange loop because Rossi sure as hell hadn’t given me straight answers yet. I closed my eyes and let the hot water flow down my body, soothing and relaxing. Images of the Mar floated back into my mind, their heads turning to see me, Rossi’s eyes opening. Who are you? The more I tried to find out, the less I knew.

* * *

Two days later — glorious days that included takeaway noodles, study, sleep, the miraculous avoidance of Tom, and a long but uneventful shift at Poseidon on Sunday night — I found myself in Jones’s office. It was spacious and elegant, tidy, a striking contrast to Rourke’s hot mess. Sitting opposite Jones, the rosewood desk between us, made me feel valued, like what I might say mattered. Sure, I was still suspicious, eyeing everything, but the news so far was good. ‘Ava, there are no charges being pressed, so you’re free of Detective Flanagan.’ Kathleen was in a dark- brown business suit today, with a knee- length skirt. She looked sharp as ever, tall, graceful and totally in control. ‘Great. Thanks.’ I sat up straighter, smoothing my tank top down over stonewashed jeans. ‘There’s something else though. Maybe you can help?’ I had no second thoughts about letting Miguel Rossi pay the bill on this extended consultation, not after what he’d done to me. What did he do? My head snapped up. Jones was focussed on me, beautiful brown eyes unblinking. ‘Huh?’ ‘Trouble with Miguel?’ This telepathy game was not making me happy. Who are you people? Mar, just like you. She crossed her arms. Damn. I’d been doing well pushing thoughts of what Rossi said to me out of my head. It was a hung jury, until I found out for myself where I came from and who, or what, I was. ‘I want to find my mother.’ I want her to look me in the eye and confirm I’m human. ‘Yes, Miguel mentioned you have some confusion there. No wonder you’re struggling.’ ‘I’m not struggling.’ Oh, hell, why lie? But it wasn’t making me comfortable, knowing she and Rossi were talking behind my back. ‘My birth mother might have answers to my blood condition.’ She smiled. ‘We’re here to help.’ So help, already. Find the woman who abandoned me. ‘I have missing pieces.’ As if that would be enough to explain it. ‘You run into a door?’ The question took me by surprise. I guess the icepack, makeup and fast healing hadn’t been quite enough. ‘Training got a little out of hand.’ So I see. Get out of my head! I seriously hoped the hallucinations weren’t coming back. ‘If you prefer.’ She smiled, an icon of patience, which made me feel about five. ‘Tell me.’ ‘I train in the LA-MMA circuit.’ She nodded. It wasn’t news to her. ‘I lost it in the cage.’ There, it was out. ‘After you ran away from Miguel?’ Was it on the five o’clock news? ‘Something like that. It’s a bit of a blur.’ Her phone rang and she pressed the com button. ‘I’ll take it in a moment, Chloe.’ She returned her attention to me. ‘You cut loose in the ring?’ ‘Yeah, but he wasn’t holding back either.’ ‘Is he smaller than you?’ ‘Hell, no. He’s six foot two and three times my weight.’ ‘Who won?’ Not the question I expected. ‘Me, and it wasn’t a TKO. I put him in hospital.’ ‘And you don’t think that odd?’ I think my whole freaking life for the last two weeks is beyond odd. ‘It’s okay, Ava. Relax.’ She pulled a file from a drawer. ‘I’ve dug around a bit since we last talked, at Rossi’s request.’ She pulled out a letter, signed it and stamped it with a seal. ‘Rourke is your best bet to gain access to the hospital records. If anyone can uncover your past, he can. The contact must be in there. You bring me a name, and I’ll have it straight to Teern.’ Him again? I waited for more explanation. ‘That’s it?’ ‘Question?’ I shook my head. ‘You guys talk like I’m in the loop.’ ‘Aren’t you?’ ‘Not in the least.’ She gave a light laugh, indulgent, as if I’d spoken nonsense. ‘Drop this to Rourke on your way.’ I thanked her and left. Rourke’s precinct was two doors down. One-stop shopping for all your legal needs. He was in, too, which was a bonus; at least that’s what I thought until he started yelling at me. What side of the bed had he gotten up on? Damn, he looked like hell, and sounded worse. ‘You waltz in here, waving papers in my face, asking for favours?’ ‘Um. Yeah.’ ‘You think Dom didn’t bring me up to speed on your session Saturday night? Jesus Christ, Ava! What’s happened to you?’ ‘Me? Where were you anyway? I wasn’t even planning on going in the cage.’ Sure, it wasn’t his fault, but the question came out anyway. Big night … ‘What did you say?’ Rourke was a lot of things, but a clubber wasn’t one of them. Then I realised I’d picked up his thoughts, not his words. Stay on track, Ava. ‘You pulverised Jimmy, and by the look of you, he was holding back.’ ‘He wasn’t!’ I shouted, then collected myself. In a civil voice I said, ‘The symptoms are morphing.’ It was the only explanation that made sense to me. I hadn’t run it by Tom, my usual biochemical sounding board, since we hadn’t spoken since the incident. Call me chicken. But that was beside the point, because it was a logical explanation. ‘That’s why I need to find my birth mother. I need to find her soon.’ ‘Your blood condition is morphing into rage?’ He didn’t pause to let me speak. ‘Because rage is how Dom described it. Four men, Ava! It took that much muscle to pull you off.’ He leaned forward, his brow creased, eyes blazing. ‘I don’t pretend to know how or why it happened, but if you’re caught going ballistic again, I won’t be able to protect you. If Jimmy presses charges, and the juvie file is opened, they’ll throw away the key. Slam. Clink. The end. Then it will have all been for nothing.’ Nothing? He wasn’t pulling punches, but it was true. If they locked me up, it was goodbye Ava as I knew her. No graduating, no saving lives with CDC. I’d be lucky to get a job washing test tubes there. No MMA club. No teaching street kids how to protect themselves, no future, at least, not the one I wanted. ‘It won’t happen again.’ ‘Seriously, Ava. It can’t.’ He relaxed a little. ‘My hands are tied if it does.’ ‘I’ll apologise to Jimmy.’ That would not be fun. ‘You’ll apologise to the entire school.’ Not unexpected. I waited until he leaned back in his chair and relaxed his shoulders. ‘So, can you help me find my birth mother?’ He re-read the letter from Jones. ‘This gives me license to look, and there is one place I might be able to throw some weight around.’ I raised my eyebrows. ‘It’s better you don’t know,’ he said softly. ‘You mean child services was blowing me off?’ ‘Maybe. I’ll find out.’ ‘Thanks. I owe you.’ ‘Like that’s something new?’ He gave me one of his rare, warm smiles. ‘Be careful. There’s still a killer out there with your name on his mind. I don’t want you going anywhere alone after dark. Agreed?’ ‘I’m not arguing.’ ‘Though after what you did to Jimmy, I’m not so sure you’re in any real danger.’ ‘The stalker usually has a gun.’ I tilted my head, storm over. ‘You’re keeping the stake out on me, right? So we can catch this guy.’ ‘Until he’s behind bars, I promise.’ He sighed. ‘You’re our bait, I won’t deny it, but Ava, no getting hurt again. Understand?’ ‘Got it.’ He came from around the desk and gave me a quick, one arm hug. ‘Be safe.’ I soaked up the good graces and left. CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The next morning, I counted my blessings. I hadn’t been chased, shot at or beaten up for over seventy-two hours. Nil underwater imagery. The bright sun beamed in through the east window, and I didn’t even growl at it. After a quick shower, I headed to Kerckhoff Hall, best bistro in the business. Tom was out, and yeah, I was still avoiding him. He’d been staying at Zoe’s, fallout from the other night. I felt like crap about it. My plan: bunk at Cate’s. I sent another message to her, asking her to call me back. I scanned through the rest of my inbox and found a text message from Celeste, one of Daina Fleming’s friends. She had a break between classes and asked if I had time to meet up. Perfect. Kerckh in ten, I texted. South entrance. Spot U? Tall, blonde, red rose tat on my left arm, she texted back. C U Soon. I found her at a window seat, sipping black coffee and munching a bagel with avo and cream cheese. ‘Ava?’ She looked me up and down, her smile fading. ‘Thanks for meeting with me.’ I sat opposite and waved at the waiter, ordering a long black and organic raisin toast with sprouts. ‘You’re not what I expected.’ Celeste didn’t appreciate my ex-army camos, pale tank top and steel-toed boots, it seemed. ‘You say you work for the police?’ ‘I do.’ And I also lie sometimes. I was doing research the police should be doing. Close enough. ‘What’s with the Lara Croft look?’ ‘I like to be prepared. Did you think of anything else? About the last night you saw Daina?’ I studied her body language, ready to pick up any subtle messages. Consciously, things might have been all fun and games at Poseidon the night Daina disappeared, but maybe there was more to it than that. I opened to her mind as well. Why not take advantage of my receptivity to others’ thoughts if it was on? No telling how long that would last; whether it was more than a part of the Discovery Channel hallucinations or not. ‘I don’t know anything more than what I already put in my statement, but …’ I leaned forward. Her eyes welled. I wanted to look away. ‘But?’ I encouraged her. ‘I’ve had nightmares.’ She seemed about to fall apart. I reached out and touched her forearm, and felt the fog roll in. Whoa! It reminded me of something, but I couldn’t think of what. My coffee arrived, and we both picked up our cups for a drink. The smooth, rich heat cleared my head a bit. ‘Tell me about the dreams.’ ‘I can’t. They vanish when I wake up, but I’m left with a really bad feeling.’ ‘Describe it?’ ‘Dark. Empty. Like the floor is dropping out from underneath me and I’m falling.’ Poor chick. ‘You think something more happened that night, and it’s blocked.’ ‘Maybe.’ She nodded her head, holding her cup with both hands. There were gold rings on her fingers and a pendant to match. ‘You talk to anyone about it?’ ‘I told my therapist, of course.’ She brightened a bit. ‘What’d your shrink say?’ ‘The usual. That I was traumatised from my friend’s disappearance, blah blah blah. Her absence had left this hole in my core.’ I wondered how much an hour they charged. We both ate in silence. Well, I ate; she picked. ‘I’d like to talk to you and Rachel together.’ I got up to pay. Celeste followed me. ‘Maybe that would jog loose a memory.’ ‘Rachel’s gone home for summer break.’ ‘Before final exams?’ ‘She’s a fourth year art major. Her submitted work is hanging in the gallery upstairs.’ Celeste pointed at the ceiling. We took our turns at the till and headed for the door. ‘It’s disturbing, but then, they all are.’ I looked at the time. ‘Show me?’ Celeste led the way. Kerckhoff wasn’t only a cafeteria and study hang- out, or long-time home to the university press. It was the oldest surviving building on campus. Its Tudor-gothic structure had made it through the Big One — stained glass, students and all — no one and no thing was lost. That was thanks to the base-isolation system upgrade they’d given it, decades before the Big One. Too bad they hadn’t done the same to a few more buildings in the area. Or all of them. Kerckhoff stood tall, and the second storey held the student gallery, among other things. I didn’t know what the current exhibition was titled, but judging by Celeste’s description, there would be gore. Sure enough, as I walked in the attendant handed me a flyer titled, Nights of the Demonic. Great. Won’t this be fun? The rest of the flyer was cheerful enough. This series is dedicated to working with student organisations and artists to showcase the weird, repressed and denied images that stalk our dreamscapes. You’d think they were selling Neapolitan ice cream with how delicious they made it sound. Gallery exhibitions aim to highlight the talent of students and local artists in the mission of creating dialogue on relevant social, political, and cultural issues. And, apparently, archetypal and unconscious ones, as well. I scanned down the names and numbers, spotted Rachel’s. ‘It’s this way.’ Celeste strode ahead, leading me through the partitioned maze of surreal and macabre images. Most of the paintings and sculptures were distasteful to my eye, not that I had a refined artistic sense, or anything. Why did every new crop of grads have to keep dwelling on the devastation? Yeah, it was bad. People suffered. The students here had only been kids when the Big One hit, like me. No local could say they hadn’t lost someone. So sure, this shit was embedded in the unconscious, but enough already. Show me some sunshine. Happy days. A little comedic relief? We survived. There are things to be grateful for … I rubbed the back of my neck. That’s what places like Poseidon did. Offered escape. Into what? The darkest world we can imagine? I shoved my hands into my pockets and kept to the middle of the floor, trying not to be engulfed by any of the twisting, gaping-maw images either side of me. Celeste stopped in front of Rachel’s work. She didn’t look at it. ‘See what I mean?’ I did. It was huge, twelve foot high. Acrylic on canvas according to the card stuck on the wall along with a sticker dot. It had sold? That fast? I made a mental note to find out who the buyer was, then stood ten feet back, taking it in. It was a club, obviously, with tables and chairs, mostly unoccupied, ringing a crowded dance floor. The subject was a young woman, slumped at a table, her head turned away so that only half her face was visible. She wore a skimpy black dress, pearl earrings and a gold bracelet on one wrist. I studied her profile, catching the fine details of her features. The artist had captured a profound sadness there, and as I stared at the eye of the subject, I knew who she was. ‘Daina,’ I whispered. Celeste froze. ‘I have to go.’ ‘Wait!’ She headed down the stairs before I could say goodbye. When I turned back to the artwork, I saw what Rachel had painted into her ‘night of the demonic.’ Oh, boy, did I see. The work was titled, Last Dance, with a question mark at the end. The irony was, the girl at the table wasn’t dancing. Couldn’t if she’d tried. The ends of her long slender legs were stubs, the black Spanish-style boots tossed to the side, still containing her severed feet. They were abandoned under the table like a pair of old shoes. That mind- tripping surreal-scape wasn’t what bothered me the most; it was the image that was reflected in the single tear rolling down her cheek. I had to stand at just the right angle to see it, and I wasn’t sure anyone else would pick it up, unless they knew where to look. It rose up like one of those hidden optical illusions that weren’t revealed unless the eyes lost focus, allowing everything to blur. In the tear, distorted like a funhouse mirror, was a man’s arm reaching toward her. In his hand, the largest part of him in the fisheye view, was a bloody knife. His face was nearly blacked out, but there were vertical lines on his forehead. ‘The stalker.’ I shivered, taking in the mini- scene, sure of one thing. This could be the killer, but how the hell would Rachel paint it? Was she psychic? Clairvoyant? Or maybe just having bad dreams? The minute I was out of the gallery, I rang Rourke. ‘You have to see something. Painting number 129, Kerckhoff Hall. Rachel Paddington’s the artist, and the subject’s Daina Fleming.’ ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Positive. Look at the tear rolling down her cheek.’ ‘Will do. Where are you now?’ ‘Heading for study hall.’ ‘I was about to call you.’ Something in his voice made me stop walking. ‘Yeah?’ ‘I have the number and last known address of Adel Ruthann Fletcher, your …’ I waited, not breathing. ‘Birth mother. Sending it to you now.’ ‘Thanks.’ It’s hard to talk with your heart in your throat. ‘You alright?’ ‘I’m good.’ More lies. ‘Talk soon.’ He hung up and I was left staring at my phone. The adrenaline was pushing my eyeballs out of my head. I needed somewhere quiet. Safe. And I needed to call this number, before I lost my nerve. I went back to Tom’s and bumped into him in the hallway. Shit. ‘Tom.’ That was it. All I had. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much more. ‘I’m off to study group.’ I nodded. ‘I’m staying at Cate’s tonight.’ Hopefully. ‘Okay.’ ‘Um …’ ‘Yeah. See ya.’ He walked away, not looking back. I knew he didn’t look because I stared after him, still speechless. Way to fuck up an excellent friendship, Sykes. I went into the apartment, sat on the couch and typed in the number. My finger hovered over call, unable to tap it. Whose brainiac idea was it to find my birth mother? Oh right, mine. For medical reasons … suddenly it was not feeling like such a good idea. To compensate for the extreme jitters, I laid on all the supportive self-talk I could manage: Everything will be alright. There’s nothing to lose here. I can’t wind up knowing less than I already do. My health depends on finding out. Don’t be a scaredy cat, Sykes. At least you know she’s alive, not in some underwater tomb! None of these affirmations helped as I stared at my phone. I felt like any minute I would throw up. Just call her, already! I tapped call. My eyes drifted out the window as the phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. ‘Hello, Adel speaking.’ Up came breakfast. I choked it back down. ‘Ms Fletcher?’ ‘Speaking.’ She went from friendly to wary in a heartbeat. ‘This is …’ Every rehearsed line went right out of my head. It was all I could do to keep from ending the call and running a mile, or twenty. ‘I’m Ava Sykes. You don’t know me, but I have some questions. About your daughter.’ Yeah, the big brave abandonment case had cold feet. Sub-zero. ‘I’m sorry. You must have the wrong person. I never had children.’ Slap in the face aside, I persisted. ‘She was born September first, twenty- four years ago. There’s a medical condition …’ The phone went dead, and so did my heart. I was still staring out the window, throat dry, legs shaking, when Tom walked in. ‘I got as far as the parking lot.’ He dropped his pack on the couch and strode toward me. ‘We have to talk.’ ‘I … can’t. Not now.’ I pocketed my phone, threw my things back into my pack and shouldered it. ‘Gotta go.’ He started to say more. ‘Later, okay Tom?’ I pushed past, and kept going right out the door. There was only one thought in my mind. She hung up on me. The bitch hung up! I ran the words through my head all the way down to the parking lot and up the street to the bus terminal. Whatever kind of fervour I needed to face this woman, who had thrown me away like garbage, was coursing through my veins right now. ‘West Hollywood, Willoughby Avenue.’ ‘You’ll have to connect downtown.’ ‘Fine.’ The driver swiped my bus pass and I took a seat. It was a good forty-five minutes from the city centre, in this traffic. Plenty of time to get my act together … or stew in my juices. The stewing being the only real option, as there was no act, just raw, unprocessed emotion. My heart was in my throat the whole way. Even when the city bustle melted into rolling, hilly suburbs with brown lawns and dusty streets, I couldn’t relax. I focussed out the window instead. Not very uplifting. The only thing that stood out against the desert monotone was the occasional cedar with its dark-side-of-the-forest green leaves and lofty, pyramid contour. Also, the occasional cat sitting on a front veranda. You could tell this neighbourhood was on tight water rations, in spite of the upper middle class zip code. The ten minute walk from the bus stop to my alleged mother’s home didn’t help matters. I found myself approaching her mailbox, with no idea if she would even answer the door. Then luck hit like lightning. Adel Fletcher was locking up the house, going out. She looked calm, like the call out of the blue hadn’t shaken her. Nothing like it had me. I stopped in my tracks. It was surreal, seeing the woman. Out of body experience surreal. I floated about ten feet above my head, watching the scene like a ghost. My main thought? Boy, am I unresolved. My mother wasn’t tall. She wasn’t lithe either, or even brunette. Her hair was jet black. Was it the real colour? Her eyes were dark brown in a full and softly rounded face. She looked late thirties, tops. Was that possible? To say she was plump would be a euphemism. My mother was overweight. Could Rourke have gotten it wrong? Was this a friend? Housemate? Time to find out. There was no turning back. ‘Excuse me, ma’am?’ I watched her face go from curious the instant she looked up into terror a split second after. ‘No,’ she whispered and clutched her handbag in front of her. There was little doubt. The woman recognised me. Or was having a hallucination. ‘Ms Fletcher?’ ‘You shouldn’t have tried to find me.’ That’s confirmation, right? But, not really the response I’d hoped for. ‘I called, before. I really need to ask you about …’ Not him! Not him! I’ll never speak of it! God above, she looks just like him! The woman’s thoughts were buckshot in my head, her mind transmitting like a beacon. I was about to reassure her that my father wasn’t on the list of topics for the day. Ease in slowly, Rourke had said. Keep it simple and to the facts. ‘I wanted to talk about my blood condition.’ Before I could finish the sentence, she ran back to the front door, fumbling her keys, trying to escape. From me. Her thoughts continued to beam into my mind, chaotic and horrifying. Monster child! You bit me. Tried to suck blood from my breasts! ‘What are you saying?’ I’d been dumped at six weeks of age. Babies didn’t even have teeth at that age, did they? You wouldn’t die! I froze. It was like she’d thrown a bucket of ice water in my face. I left you at the bottom of the pool, and nothing. You just lay there, happy as a clam, looking up. A demon child, waiting for …’ The vision hit me so hard I fell to my knees. I remembered. Waiting for my mother to pick me up. ‘But you didn’t.’ I was moving forward, stalking toward her. She dropped her keys and spun, back to the door, eyes wide, mouth gaping. ‘You’re just like him!’ she screamed. ‘You tried to kill me.’ I was vaguely aware of hot tears streaming down my face. When I reached her, I slammed my palms into the door, leaving holes either side of her head. ‘You tried to drown me! When that didn’t work, you left me in a back alley. Like garbage.’ I pounded until splinters flew into the air. She kept screaming. My fists went right through to the screen door, setting off the house alarm. The noise put my teeth on edge. I pulled my hands out of the shattered wood and stumbled back. Who’s the monster now, Ava? The cool thought repulsed me. No, that’s not true. The answer did. Me. I’m the monster. My mother’s mind was a torrent. Filthy raping bastard. He ruined my life and now his spawn is going to finish it. For a flash, I saw a man’s face. Beautiful. Terrible. Then it was gone a second later and my mother’s eyes stared back at me. Long buried memories rushed up. I’d seen this expression on her before. I backed from her until I hit the mailbox and knocked it from its post. I watched her stream of relentless images. This woman’s memory of being raped had my hands to my face, screaming as well. Adel swept up her keys and ran, diving into the white Toyota parked in the driveway. She had the engine revved and was out of there like a shot. My legs collapsed. I hit the pavement, tears running, nose running, the house alarm blaring into the street. In an anguished moment I realised two things: my mother hadn’t been a consenting adult when she conceived me, and I had to disappear before the police showed. I didn’t know how far back Rourke held my surveillance. Shit. I picked myself up and stumbled down the street, fairly certain that the neighbours were crouched behind their curtains and blinds, calling 911. The upshot? There was no more guessing which side of the family my temper came from. Both. I’d set out to find answers; I came away with more questions. The bus ride back to the city was a blur. I had no certainty about what to do next, except talk to my best girlfriend. I tapped my phone. ‘Call Cate.’ She picked up on the second ring. ‘Hello, beautiful.’ ‘Cate?’ Emotion spilled out with my voice. ‘Can I come over?’ ‘Ava, what’s happened?’ ‘I just met my birth mother.’ ‘Are you alright?’ ‘Not even close.’ The bus ride to Cate’s took over an hour, plenty of time for more juice stewing. CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Staying at Cate’s seemed best, but I wasn’t completely at ease, due to Joey’s part of the equation. Still, it was a roof, bed and breakfast, near the university, and I felt reasonably safe. It also felt good to keep moving, as the copycat could still be after me. Yeah, I was doing anything to avoid thinking about my ‘mother.’ My phone rang as I walked up Cate’s street from the bus stop. I looked at the display. Daniel Bane. For the life of me, I couldn’t work out why he’d be calling. I tapped reject call. He texted a few seconds later. Dinner tonight? I didn’t remember agreeing to that, but I did want to learn more about his connections with City Hall, Teern and the CDC. I went into investigative mode as I headed toward Cate’s door, and texted, Sounds good. Sticky Rice on S Broadway. 7:30? C U There. I pocketed my phone. Daniel Bane made the world seem normal. Food. Companionship. Work. The way he spoke was easy too. Not forced. Almost like we were friends, or more. It would help me forget everything that was happening, like a holiday from the crazy. I decided that was a good thing as Cate opened the front door. Her eyes had a ‘not enough sleep for weeks’ look. She gave me a hug and led me by the hand through the hallway of the two- storey townhouse. ‘Is Joey here?’ I had to ask. ‘Right this way.’ She pulled me into the kitchen where she and Joey had been eating pizza. Garlic, cheese and pepperoni filled my senses. Cosy. I sat with them for as long as I could stand, nibbling at a sliver. Joey showed no signs of leaving, so I didn’t mention my meeting with mother dearest and Cate didn’t ask. That was for a private conversation. ‘I’m going in early tonight. Can I have a quick shower?’ ‘You don’t have to ask, silly.’ Cate directed me to the spare room that doubled as a study, not that either of them were undertaking any coursework at this time. She pulled clean sheets and a towel out of the closet before flopping down on my new bed. ‘Thanks for letting me stay.’ In spite of me and Joey being mortal enemies. ‘Don’t worry about Joey. You’re always welcome.’ ‘I didn’t say anything about him.’ ‘Didn’t have to, Ava. You telegraph stronger than anyone I know.’ That shut me up. I took a quick shower and dressed for work in clean black jeans, Poseidon shirt and boots. To hell with the skirt this time. When she poked her head in half an hour later, she was dressed for work as well, or rather, undressed for work. ‘I thought you had the night off,’ I said. ‘Back on at nine, rested and ready to go.’ ‘You’re doing too many hours.’ ‘I’m fine.’ She checked her makeup in the full-length mirror. ‘You wearing a coat over that?’ This was so not what I wanted to say. ‘I’m on flyers until midnight.’ I shook my head. ‘You’re parading up and down the street, handing out “one free drink” flyers? Dressed like that?’ ‘If you saw my mortgage dwindling, you wouldn’t talk.’ She had a point. I was being totally judgmental, like an uptight parent. I lowered my voice, moving on to my next concern. ‘I’d rather you didn’t tell anyone where I’m staying.’ She laughed outright. ‘You’re so paranoid, Ava.’ ‘Um, hello? A killer is targeting me and we’re trying to catch him, not lead him to my dearest friends.’ Where was her brain? ‘Cate, please humour me on this, will you? Don’t tell anyone, including Daniel Bane.’ She wasn’t listening. ‘I’m up for promotion next month.’ Cate opened her purse and popped a capsule, threw her head back to swallow it. So many warning bells went off I didn’t know where to start. ‘What was that?’ ‘I’m back on the pill.’ Liar. It was the wrong packet, for one. ‘With your vasectomised boyfriend? You should be using condoms with him, by the way. Six of them at a time.’ ‘Mind your own business, Sykes!’ Joey shouted from the kitchen. I guess I’d said it a little loud. ‘And I want to talk to you about my truck,’ he went on. Damn. Cate ignored the whole ‘safe sex’ issue and whispered, ‘Are you going to be okay, with Joey?’ ‘I’m not going to sleep with him, if that’s what you mean.’ I hadn’t told her about me and the ménage à trois hallucination with Tom-Rossi-Bane the other night. Baby steps. She gave me a condescending look. ‘Of course you aren’t. I mean, will you please try to get along?’ Cate was being true to her Libra nature, making sure everybody played nice. ‘I’m going into town with you, remember, and he’s going to be … what’s he going to be doing?’ ‘Watching a game, and when that’s over, coming down to the club with some friends so we can party after my shift.’ My head came up at that. ‘I would invite you.’ She patted my shoulder. ‘But you’ll probably be with Daniel.’ Probably not. As she checked her siren outfit in front of the mirror, I frowned. ‘Are you having any of the, you know, old issues?’ ‘My relationship with food is fine.’ Interesting that she knew exactly what I had been referring to, though. ‘I’m working long hours, is all. The extra pounds are melting away.’ When were there extra pounds? ‘What if that doesn’t stop? I know you took time off your degree program to save some money, but you’re going to go back, right?’ ‘Don’t stress, Ava. I’m fine. Now tell me about your mother.’ Whoa, whiplash. I swallowed the glass in my throat. ‘I don’t think we can call her mum.’ ‘What then?’ ‘Unwilling biological precursor?’ ‘Too wordy.’ Cate’s eyes may have looked tired, but they were full of compassion. She took my hand. ‘That bad?’ My palm was sweaty and I gently withdrew it. ‘Worse.’ She listened to the story with her familiar openness, not interrupting, which was a surprise, considering what I was saying. I failed to mention a few things, the mental images of rape and my favourite, the attempted infanticide. I also left out the guts of my mother’s terror of me, and my emotional meltdown, mainly because I didn’t want to relive it. I guess I left out a lot, but she still had the gist. ‘Did you cry, Ava? Did you feel your feelings?’ Oh, hell. Had I forgotten my best friend was still a psych major at heart? ‘A bit.’ ‘Of?’ ‘Crying and feeling,’ I whispered. That’s all I planned to give her. I still couldn’t believe I’d lost it over the whole stupid thing. Definitely not something I cared to talk too much about. Mother-daughter separation anxiety was so in the past. But even thinking about it, it felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. Vulnerability was not my ally, so I forced my hand out to give hers a quick squeeze. ‘Thanks for listening.’ The door slammed shut on the subject. ‘Let’s go to work.’ ‘You have to mourn, Ava.’ ‘Yep. It’s on my calendar.’ She hugged me a full five seconds longer than my intimacy issues could stand and whispered in my ear, ‘Love you.’ Love you, too. I did, without a doubt, but I couldn’t get the sounds out of my throat for her to hear, so they stayed in my head. Joey drove us to Poseidon — his truck repaired and insurance picking up the tab. He muttered so much about his deductible that I told him he’d have two hundred dollars from me in the morning. That shut him up. The rest of the ride I tried to warn Cate about overworking, and how taking on her ‘promotion’ doing whatever the hell went on down in VIP wasn’t going to help, but I couldn’t convince her in the slightest. The entire student body at UCLA thought that club was the best thing since lecture-linked tablets. Hell, I worked there. How could I argue with that? Trying was way better than thinking about my birth mother, though, or the images in Rachel Paddington’s art, or my messed up relationship with Tom, not to mention Bane and Rossi. I pushed them, and the ‘family reunion’ from hell, out of my feng shui harmony, along with the other things plaguing me of late, and walked the two blocks from the bus stop to the Thai fusion cafe Daniel had chosen.

* * *

Brass bells chimed as I opened the restaurant door. Divine scents greeted me, softening my eyelids as I followed them in. Daniel waited at a table near the back, and stood when I arrived. The dark charcoal suit, with maroon shirt and black tie, way outclassed me. He didn’t even cock an eyebrow at my bouncer get-up. His calm, controlled aura wrapped around me and I exhaled. Relaxed. I wasn’t ready for the kiss as he stepped up to pull out my chair. It was like warm, melting honey. He stopped before it went anywhere. A civilised man. I sat in the chair he pulled out, catching my breath, and, for once, feeling in the present moment. It took all of ten seconds to shake it off. What the hell was that? ‘You’re upset?’ His hand covered mine for a moment before he filled my wine glass. ‘Can we talk about something else?’ I took a single sip and set it down. Working tonight. ‘You can have a glass of wine, Ava. Work is hours away.’ ‘But …’ He lifted it toward me. ‘I’m the boss.’ He gave a cocky smile. ‘Drink.’ I nodded, and had another sip, the warmth heating my chest and spreading to my limbs. ‘Better? Now, what are you doing Thursday afternoon?’ ‘One sec and I’ll tell you.’ I pulled out my phone and scanned through the calendar. There was study, as always, and the interview with Jen Bradshaw from LA-Live at 4.00 p.m. ‘I’m free between one and three p.m.’ ‘Excellent. I have a meeting with the CDC Board of Directors. I thought you might like to attend.’ ‘Really?’ Kid in a candy store. ‘What kind of meeting?’ ‘I’m donating a new wing for the pathology laboratory. We’ll be talking about intended uses over the next decade. Perhaps —’ ‘Yes!’ I couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off my face. Thoughts of killers and horrible mothers vanished. ‘I’d love to be at that meeting.’ ‘Consider it done, Ava.’ We chatted until the waiter arrived. He asked about my internship opportunities and listed the connections he had that might help. It was a lot of ‘me’ focus. I thought that maybe I could get used to it. Daniel ordered for both of us and then continued. ‘You’ve applied for a scholarship? You know their internships require funding.’ I’d never been out with a guy who took so much interest in the things that excited me. Maybe off-line dating isn’t so bad after all. ‘Sure I’ve applied, along with the thousands of other hopefuls trying for three, maybe four seats tops.’ He chuckled, probably thinking it was an exaggeration, but I assured him it wasn’t. We were deep in conversation when the waiter came with chicken thigh gai yang, steaming rice, khao soi noodles and salt and pepper squid. The tastes were sharp, spicy and exotic. I’ll admit, I was feeling seduced by it all. ‘Anything new on the murder?’ He asked right out of the blue. The conversation shift made me babble. ‘I hope so. It’s getting to me, looking over my shoulder all the time. But he’s been out of sight for days.’ ‘You’d be safe, Ava …’ he placed his hand over mine, second time tonight, ‘under my protection.’ I started to pull back, but as soon as he touched me I relaxed my guard. ‘If you take me up on my offer, you’ll sleep easy, I assure you.’ What did that even mean? ‘Thank you.’ I picked up my wine glass and toasted him. ‘I’m good for now.’ ‘At Cate’s? Do you think she can protect you?’ Had she sent him a memo? Damn. This wasn’t good. ‘I can protect myself.’ To demonstrate, I found myself telling him more details than I’d meant to, including my day trip to my mother’s house. Oh, boy. I hadn’t planned to go there. Damn men and their strong, sexy, protective hand-holding and gentle kisses that promised more. Where had that thought even come from? I squeezed my eyes tight and shook my head. What was happening to my willpower? The meal was over before 9.00 p.m. and Cinderella was back at Poseidon, bouncing the rowdies, but not before another honey-sweet kiss. The night went fast and I was home, at Cate’s, asleep by 3.30 a.m.

* * *

I’d been near unconscious when Cate and Joey came home at dawn. They disappeared into their bedroom and I tried to go back to dreamland. It took a while, with so many thoughts streaming through my mind. At eleven in the morning, I was up, showered and sipping coffee, still thinking about yesterday’s events. ‘Mother’ was pushed away, again, and I spent some time on the computer where I found a high-res image of Rachel’s painting along with the rest of the current exhibition. I couldn’t see the reflection in the tear, but maybe it would show up in greyscale. I tried it, and sure enough, it did, killer’s face paint and all. Had Rourke spotted it? I called to find out, but it went straight to voicemail. I left a short message. ‘Give me a ring.’ I had the day off and decided that my pocketful of cash from last night’s work, minus a payment to Joey, needed to be put to good use, so I went computer shopping. Nothing like a little retail therapy for distraction. Besides, I needed a new one for studies. I hadn’t taken Zoe’s with me. It didn’t seem right to keep borrowing it. Better check in with Tom. He’d been trying to say something when I’d raced off to meet my mother. I wanted to share that episode of my life with him. Soon. But not yet. The best place to find a new laptop was the city’s largest computer outlet, Techno Inc, downtown. The computer in my budget range two weeks ago would be used, but not now that I was working at Poseidon. I jumped on the bus and gazed out the window. The green Subaru was nowhere in sight. Those guys knew how to stay hidden. The day was overcast, easy on the glare. It even looked like rain. Not that that was going to happen. My eyes were a million miles away when my phone rang. ‘Rourke?’ ‘How did it go?’ My denial must have been deep, because I wasn’t sure what he meant … oh, yeah. Meeting with my mother. ‘Couldn’t have been worse.’ I said it like it was good news. ‘What happened?’ ‘Nothing. It’s a dead end.’ No way was he invited to the pity party. ‘What about you? Did you see the painting of Daina? Or even better, catch my stalker?’ ‘Since when did murder investigation become part of your curriculum?’ ‘I don’t know. Since I became a target?’ Was he kidding? ‘You saw it, didn’t you?’ ‘What was I supposed to see, Ava?’ ‘In the tear! I can show you. The image is online.’ He sighed into the receiver. ‘How soon can you be here?’ ‘On the bus, headed downtown. Fifteen?’ ‘Fine.’ He swiped off. I was there in twenty minutes. It took another five waiting in line at security, even though I was unarmed. Busy day at the LAPD. Rourke’s office was stuffy, full of familiar scents: old coffee, printer ink, dust around electrical wires, microwaved burrito. He wore the face of a man in a crappy mood. ‘We’re looking for connections between the recent disappearances and your attacks.’ Rourke’s eyes were on his computer. They were bloodshot, exhausted. ‘And?’ ‘Nothing yet.’ I couldn’t see his screen, but I had a feeling it could have been his wishlist on eBay and not the missing persons database. ‘Wait till you see this, then.’ I was out of my seat and around to his computer. He frowned and closed the program, but didn’t stop me from pulling up a chair and taking over. I opened the Kerckhoff Hall exhibition site, downloaded the high-res image of Rachel’s painting and reopened it in his photo program. I turned it to black and white in two clicks, tripled the size and sat back. ‘What do you see?’ He whistled. ‘A man with a bloody knife, and tribal face paint. Missed that.’ ‘You know what this means? Rachel and Celeste, the two girls Daina went out with the night she disappeared, must have met the murderer.’ I thought about it. ‘Maybe they’d remember more if they were questioned by a shrink.’ ‘You can’t jump to conclusions based on someone’s abstract art.’ ‘Looks representational to me.’ ‘She has no feet.’ ‘Exactly.’ ‘Inadmissible evidence.’ He checked his watch and stood up. ‘I’ll question Rachel again.’ ‘She’s at her parents’ home for the summer break. I forgot to ask where that was.’ ‘I know how to use the phone, Detective Sykes. Her parents are in Colorado.’ ‘But you’ll want to email this, to show to her.’ I saved the black and white image to his desktop. ‘Thanks, Ava. You did good. Now go study for your exams, and graduate, like you planned. CDC or bust, remember?’ Rourke had pulled every string in the world to get me into UCLA. We both wanted me to succeed. ‘In between stalking sessions, you mean?’ ‘Don’t worry. I have you covered. No one’s touching you. When he gets close again, we’ll have him.’ CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The walk to Techno Inc was short. It took me past the new district with its uniform, bright, reflective buildings and further down Grand Avenue to my favourite part of the city. Here the structures alternated between old and new, the different heights letting in contrasting light. Weathered bricks were more prevalent than laminated glass. The world suddenly absorbed the filtered sunlight instead of bouncing it into my eyes. The sky felt close. Dark grey clouds rolled in, swallowing up every speck of blue. Maybe it was going to rain, after all. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Techno Inc was one street over. I took the crosswalk, moving with a crowd of pedestrians. In this traffic, it was the only sensible thing to do. Pulling out my phone, I rang Cate. ‘Awake yet?’ ‘Don’t shout.’ ‘You okay?’ There were muffled sounds, snoring in the background. ‘Late night.’ I smiled into the phone. ‘I know. I heard you come home.’ ‘Sorry.’ ‘It’s your house, but Cate, when’s the sabbatical going to end? You were third year psych, a straight-A —’ ‘I’ll call you back.’ ‘Wait!’ I’d planned to grill her for giving away my location to Bane, but she sounded too wrecked to withstand it. ‘You need a break. You’re exhausted.’ ‘You woke me up to say that?’ This wasn’t going right. ‘Coffee before work?’ ‘Love to, sweetie. I’ll call.’ She tapped off. I don’t think I’d persuaded her to drop that job and finish her degree yet. Meanwhile, she needed a liver cleanse. And time away from Poseidon. Time away from Joey, too, if I had my way. His idea of a perfect getaway would be a month long bender in Ibiza. Dog. I started planning the perfect holiday in my mind. It would begin with intensive jujitsu in the morning, green juice fasts and … hang on. That was my version of a perfect holiday. Cate would like something softer, like a yoga retreat in the mountains of Peru, or maybe the sunny beaches of Baja California, if the radiation was down. Which reminded me, Daniel Bane had a holiday house there. I wonder if he ever rents it out. Cate needed something. Who was supplying her with those pills, anyway? They sure weren’t for birth control. I readjusted a collision course with a pedestrian. He had his head down, eyes on his phone. ‘Sorry!’ he mumbled out the side of his mouth. I went back to my thoughts. If I worked all summer for Poseidon and landed research funding via a CDC intern scholarship, I really could take Cate on a holiday by next year. Maybe there was somewhere that did yoga and jujitsu intensives. Half a block before Techno Inc, I jolted out of my thoughts. Someone was coming up behind, closing in fast. Yeah, there were plenty of people around, but this one had a singular intention. I could feel it with my back turned. I shot a glance over my shoulder, spotting a guy on a mission, headed my way. His dress sense — black jeans, plain black shirt, boots, no backpack, shades — didn’t cry undercover cop with urgent question for Ava Sykes. Adrenaline pumped, tingling my limbs. When he was an arm’s reach away, I turned and shouted, ‘What the hell do you want?’ Shouting usually startled a person, threw them off their game. It certainly had the bystanders pulling back. But not this guy. He didn’t even slow his pace. Instead, he tackled me to the ground. My only thought, as my arms slapped the pavement a nanosecond before my spine, was, In broad daylight? Busy street? Hello. Witnesses? Beneath my hands, I felt the sidewalk crack like someone dropped an anvil on it. He fell hard on top of me, but my body responded fast. It wasn’t like this takedown hadn’t happened a thousand times in the cage. I smashed my palms into his chest and tucked my knees. Before he had time to register how flexible I was, or how strong, I kicked him, double-barrel, in the sternum. The guy flew backward, past a lamppost, between two parked cars and into the street. Damn! I didn’t recognise my own strength any more. I jumped to my feet in time to see a car screech to a halt, inches from my attacker. The next car rear-ended the first, and the next, on down the line. The fender-bending train wreck kept going. Oh hell no. Glass fell, horns honked, drivers rolled down their windows and cursed. I looked for Lee, or anybody remotely undercover cop. My attacker struggled to stand. He turned to me, his shades gone, a hand over one eye. He stumbled backward, and ran. This was definitely going to be on the five o’clock news. A guy in a tan tee broke from the crowd and shot after him. A flash of green Hawaiian shirt followed. It was all I could make out. My tails? I shrunk back, hoping to disappear behind the gathering crowd. That’s when two guys built like tanks flanked me, one on either side. They also were dressed in jeans, tees, shades and boots. XXL. ‘The gym’s that way, boys.’ I pointed down the street. They didn’t budge, so I raised my voice. ‘Back off!’ It would have been loud enough to make heads turn, but the excitement in the street had all the onlookers’ attention. Judging by the continued screeches, cars were still piling up. ‘Don’t make a fuss, Sykes.’ Blood drained from my face at the sound of my name. My stalker had friends? I made to bolt. Faster than I expected, one grabbed my arm. I turned to throw a punch, but the other dude caught my free hand. The bastards walked me to a back street, my feet not quite touching the ground. Next thing I knew, I was pushed into a brick wall, taking it on the nose. Apparently they thought I needed tenderising like a slab of meat. Both brave assholes spun me around and pinned my back flat, free fists pounding my ribs. I didn’t hesitate to spit in their faces, but that was just a distraction. Out of my watering eyes, I spotted Lee, green Hawaiian shirt flapping in the wind, gun drawn, barrelling down on us. A squad car screeched into the alley behind him. ‘LAPD!’ he shouted, reaching me seconds later. Lee clocked one guy in the back of the head and slammed him to the ground. The other ran. While I doubled over, holding my ribs, the squad car skidded to a stop and the beat cop tore after him. Lee patted his perp down and did a really short version of their rights. I think he stopped at silent. While he cuffed him, Lee told me to let Rourke know. I pulled out my phone and tapped his name while my attacker was put in the squad car. Blood spattered the touch screen. I pinched my nose to stem the flow. Rourke answered fast. ‘Where are you? Jesus, Sykes, it’s a mess on Jefferson.’ I wiped my face with the hem of my shirt and looked for a street sign. Lee shouted out, ‘1237 block Hill Street. One in custody.’ He was talking on the squad car radio, but I repeated the info to Rourke. ‘There were three guys this time. Three!’ ‘You alright?’ ‘Think so.’ I swallowed blood running down the back of my throat. ‘Any of these guys your stalker?’ ‘Don’t think so … none of them had their faces painted. Does this mean the copycat doesn’t work alone?’ ‘Maybe. They didn’t catch the one who caused the crash.’ ‘Damn. What now?’ ‘Tell Lee I’ll be there in five. Give him your statement then walk away. If this didn’t scare our killer off, we still have a chance at him.’ I did a three-sixty and frowned. ‘Who’s covering me now?’ ‘Mark and Samuel.’ ‘I can’t see them.’ ‘You aren’t supposed to, Ava. Just go home.’ ‘Right. Talk later.’ Sweat trickled down my face. I wiped my nose again, my hand still coming away bloody. ‘Lee? You have any tissues?’ He was sitting in the squad car, writing on a tablet. ‘Hang on.’ He handed me a wad of tissues from the glovebox. I used the side mirror while cleaning my face. Some mirrors were worse than others, but I definitely looked like shit. ‘Sit down for a minute, Sykes. You took it hard.’ He motioned me into the passenger’s seat, but the proximity to the man in the back put me off. ‘I’m fine. Rourke’s on his way.’ I balled up the tissues and shoved them in my backpack. ‘Tag team is here.’ I nodded behind me, though I didn’t know where Mark and Samuel were. I gave him a four-sentence statement and then said, ‘Gotta go.’ I had to process what happened. It was like a puzzle where the pieces kept flying off the board. MMA had taught me to handle the adrenaline rush of fighting, then move on with the day as usual, but this was different. I’d been fighting for my life, again, and losing. Halfway down the block, a rush of energy hit like a tidal wave. I took out my phone and clutched it. There was a missed call from Rossi. Funny. He was just the man I wanted to yell at. I tapped the call back button. He answered on the first ring. ‘What the hell did you put in my drink?’ I shouted, as if no time or events had elapsed since the ‘journey to the bottom of the sea’ I took four days ago. ‘Where are you?’ ‘Don’t answer a question with another freaking question. Was there blood in it, or did I hallucinate that as well?’ ‘You didn’t hallucinate anything, but Ava, it’s not safe for you.’ ‘You think?’ People gave me a wide berth as I hollered into the phone. There was a momentary pause, then Rossi’s voice turned glacier cold. ‘Tell me where you are.’ I sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a rush. ‘I was heading for Techno Inc before being railroaded by two freight trains.’ ‘Two?’ ‘You’re right. There were three. Stop changing the damn subject.’ He hung up. ‘Hey, I’m not through with you.’ I cursed him, venting my rage, bracing my ribs where the bricks had pounded me. I wanted to hit back until something broke. It wasn’t my most Zen moment. I took ten deep breaths. Didn’t help in the slightest. Still, I had one of three options. I could curse and cry, wait around for answers, or follow through with finding a new laptop. Yup, that’s right, Sykes. Stick with the plan. I wasn’t going to calm down, but I could focus on something mundane. That’s what I told myself anyway. Ritual routine. Buy the damned laptop. I crossed the street and ducked into Techno Inc. It was a big warehouse building, enormously high ceilings with dozens of helicopter fans suspended from the steel rafters. In spite of the breeze they created, it was muggy as hell. Not good for the electronics. I passed the ‘Rebuilt’ aisle, heart pounding, and followed giant green arrows to the section that said ‘New.’ If this was retail therapy, it wasn’t soothing me. I sifted through a maze of laptops, pads and tablets. They came with, or without, every program imaginable, wired and wireless, cams and no cams. Because most resources — art and literary works, programs, music, films — were in Creative Commons, obtaining new software wasn’t the issue; a machine that could run high-end graphics, for my microbio-simulations and slides, was essential though. I found a nice little lappy for a good price, with a twelve-month warranty. Twelve months! By then, I’d be interning at the CDC, or dead, or in a psych ward, heavily medicated. Gee, I’m a girl with options. While making the purchase, my adrenaline reached critical mass. My heart pounded in my ears. My limbs shook and sweat ran down my back. I tore out of the building with my new buy, and bumped straight into Rossi. ‘You!’ I let out a yelp and jumped back. ‘We need to talk.’ ‘Get out of my way.’ I tried to keep walking but he blocked me. ‘Ava, listen. If you’re Shen, I can’t protect you. If you’re with Teern, I can.’ ‘Shen? Teern?’ I huffed out the names. ‘I have no idea what you’re saying.’ He had his hands out in that placating gesture that I hated. ‘I’m neutral, Ava, until you make a choice. That’s what I’m here for.’ Snap.‘For fuck’s sake, Rossi, stop talking garbage and tell me what the hell is going on!’ My eyes burned and I’m pretty sure I spat as I spoke. ‘I’m being stalked, hearing things in my head. My father’s a rapist. My mother tried to kill me … everyone’s trying to kill me … ‘What?’ I kept ranting. ‘I’m stronger than a mountain lion and can’t control the rage, and you …’ I shifted my shopping bag and spotted the bus stop. ‘If you have anything useful to say, spit it out, otherwise get the hell out of my face!’ I felt my nosebleed return. Didn’t give a shit. Rossi absorbed my outburst, his stance calm, non-threatening. His eyes were unusually soft. ‘Come.’ He reached out his hand and took mine. ‘Let’s go find some answers.’ CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The afternoon light reflected on the bulkhead, rippling like water. It enchanted me and I calmed down a bit. Rossi and I were alone on his yacht, in one of the best decked out pathology labs I’d ever been in. The man obviously brought his work home with him, and why not? The panorama when he put out to sea would be spectacular. Apparently, his hematology research involved marine bioassays as well. In spite of my boiling hot confusion, and more than a little anger toward him, I felt intrigued. We sat, side by side, on high stools in front of two microscopes strapped to a desk. Like every bit of equipment on this boat, they would withstand a small cyclone. Maybe a larger one. I stopped gawking and turned to him. ‘You have me here. I’m listening.’ Rossi gave me an earful of information, no denying that. But everything he said about opening my mind and showing me my ‘history’ and accepting I was Mar had no more meaning than it did on the day of my underwater acid trip, and I told him so. ‘Ava, you think you’re a Lander because you were raised by them, but you aren’t.’ ‘Define Lander.’ ‘The humans.’ He said it so matter of fact, like how could I not know. ‘Living proof,’ I said. A person could graduate summa cum laude and be certifiably crackers. ‘Please. Suspend your disbelief and think of this as the truth, if not about yourself, then about me, for now. This is what I am. Mar.’ My instincts were to leave him to his mad ideas, but I’d bailed before, and was still in the dark, so I stayed, determined to extract whatever sense I could. In every fantasy resides a grain of truth. I couldn’t remember where I’d heard that, but it felt right. ‘Okay, doc. Let’s pretend for a moment there is, what? Another species?’ I could hardly say the word without fracturing into a nervous smile. ‘Mar,’ he said again. ‘And you are one?’ ‘Me, you, your lawyer, Teern and myriad of us, in the sea.’ ‘Anyone else?’ I did laugh this time. ‘The Poseidon crew are Mar, of a sort. Shen Mar. Very dangerous, not that any Mar isn’t. But Shen live by different rules. Driven by darker desires. Addictions. They’ve adapted to land, more or less. You must know that at least, with how much time you spend with Bane.’ ‘Stop!’ Cold sweat broke out on my forehead and the tips of my fingers tingled. ‘Explain darker desires?’ ‘Blood, Ava. You smell it on them?’ ‘I’ve smelled it on you before too.’ He looked away. ‘Mar need blood to survive on land, only a small amount, and transfusion is more than adequate. The Shen, they take it far beyond necessity.’ ‘How so?’ He thought about it for a moment. ‘Where Landers …’ ‘People,’ I interrupted. ‘Where people immerse in books, film, music, art, the Shen take human blood. From the blood, they pull the memories of their victims and ride them like waves of thought.’ It took a minute to register. ‘As in, for fun?’ ‘Entertainment. They’re fiercely addicted.’ He rubbed his shoulder as if it had a kink. ‘It’s not a small thing, the ecstasy of a memory experienced as if it were your own.’ If this is what happened to me, when I drank his blood, I wanted to redefine the term ecstasy. Rossi kept talking. ‘They prefer well educated, adventurous “donors”, rich with human knowledge of arts and science, creativity and discourse, full of the lust for life, conflicts, dramas —’ ‘Sex?’ ‘That too.’ Coeds. Exactly. ‘So they drink the blood of smart, sexy people to get off?’ ‘It’s an oversimplification, but yes.’ ‘Why not run a blood bank? They seem rich enough for it.’ ‘Shen have taken over many profitable corporations, true, but a blood bank would not serve their purpose. The longer the hemoglobin has been out of the living system —’ ‘The person.’ He ignored my interruption. ‘— the more the memories fade. Within a few minutes, they’re often gone.’ ‘So Shen Mar like it hot from the vein?’ ‘Adrenaline boosts the images, tapping more dramatic memories. Over millennia, the Shen have developed ways to excite victims for the greatest recall.’ My stomach dropped. ‘So, Poseidon’s VIP lounge isn’t a floorshow?’ ‘Who told you that?’ I let it sink in. I didn’t know if I could believe Rossi or not, but if he was right? ‘You, and your Mar friends. Where do you get your kicks, if not from tasting human blood?’ ‘We seek our kicks, as you call it, in the eternal memories of the sea. She holds a far greater elation for us.’ I digested these revelations. According to Rossi, Shen Mar lust for the memories of others and have no qualms about draining people to satisfy their needs. Other Mar lust for the millions of years of life memories encrypted in seawater, which is much the same constitution as blood, so that sort of made sense. Could this be true? I guessed if Rossi tossed back the same shot he’d given me the other day, then a race of sea people, at home in the depths, entranced by the fractal geometry of a coral reef, might seem like family. ‘You said you had empirical evidence.’ ‘I can prove Mar exist, and you are one.’ There was no chink in his confidence. He pointed at the microscope and clipped on a glass slide. ‘This is human blood. Take a look.’ I did. There were perfectly healthy red cells, oxygen rich, and the occasional white cell, clusters of platelets. ‘So?’ ‘Watch this.’ He pricked his finger, squeezed a drop on a fresh slide, covered it with a paper-thin square of glass and put it under his scope. After a little adjustment, he said, ‘Now compare my blood.’ He leaned back, but not so far I wasn’t completely aware of his every contour as I bent to the scope. The hairs on my arms stood out. ‘This can’t be right.’ I pulled my head up. ‘You’d have to be completely hypoxic. Most of these red cells are dead.’ I looked again to confirm. ‘And you should be too.’ ‘But you see, I am not.’ He removed the slide and took a blood bag from the fridge. With a 1ml syringe, he withdrew a drop, putting a pinhead of blood on the slide with his own. He covered it again and handed it to me. ‘Now look.’ I clipped it onto the stage of my scope and adjusted the lens. ‘This can’t be right either.’ I moved it around, checking the entire drop. ‘Your blood is mixing with the sample from the blood bag, and … coming back to life. The red cells are plumping up, becoming nicely convex and …’ I looked up at him. ‘They’re pulling hemoglobin from fresh cells. How?’ ‘I told you. Mar need human blood to survive on land. We evolved to oxygenate from seawater, not air, but fresh blood, like the sea, works as well.’ ‘Huh?’ He sighed, like I was a slow learner. In the sea, we breathe water into our lungs and draw oxygen from it there, but on land, we’ve lost the ability to breathe air — no O2 exchange in the lungs. If we walk under the sun, we survive by extracting O2 from human blood, which enriches our own for hours, sometimes days. I knew I was hearing him telepathically but it didn’t faze me at this point. ‘And you think I am one of you?’ ‘If you give me a drop of your blood, I will prove it.’ I thought about that for a moment. My desire to see him eat his words outweighed the fear of having my DNA fall into the wrong hands. I held my finger up, in a rude way, but snatched it back before he could touch it. I pricked myself, making my own smear, gently placing the cover slip of glass over the live blood. I’d done it on test subjects enough times. It wasn’t like I didn’t know how. I handed him the slide. ‘Knock yourself out.’ He took it and turned the knobs, scanning for a few moments. His forehead creased. ‘Yes?’ I didn’t repress the chuckle. Rossi unclipped the slide, held it to the light and clipped it back to the stage. He sounded less sure as he continued. ‘When did you last take blood?’ ‘You have my file at the hospital.’ ‘I mean since then.’ I scrunched my face. ‘Nothing since then. It’s not like I had another hemorrhage or anything. Well, I did have a bit of a bash-up or two, but nothing major.’ ‘This can’t be right.’ ‘Maybe I should have asked my birth mother about my weird blood, when I had the chance.’ She seemed pretty knowledgeable about my origins. ‘What did you say?’ ‘Birth mother. Didn’t I mention? She’s alive and well, living on Willoughby Avenue, East New LA.’ His eyes came off the scope and hit me like a shot. Damn, he could turn fierce without warning. I pegged him as a Scorpio rising, to go with the Capricorn sun, but it didn’t seem like the right time to ask. I leaned back, continuing the sarcasm. It beat feeling the emotions that threatened to come up. ‘Unfortunately, I don’t have a blood sample from Mum. She was too busy running from me at the speed of light.’ And screaming into my head about my father, the rapist monster, who, by the way, I resemble more than a smidgen. ‘Impossible,’ he whispered. I don’t think I’d ever heard a more alluring voice than Rossi’s. Too bad it wasn’t saying something more supportive while I spilled my guts. ‘Not impossible at all. She moved fast, for her weight. Bit chubby though. I don’t think we share the same metabolism, or fitness goals.’ ‘That was not your mother, Ava! She has to be a foster mother. No other explanation.’ And, back to crazy town, though it would be a relief in a way, if Adel Fletcher was an early, but awful, foster carer. Maybe she adopted me, and then had second thoughts. Before going insane and trying to drown me. I mean, what a crap reunion to have with the actual birth mother. But no, I’d been inside her head, seen what she’d seen. I faced him square on. ‘She recognised me. Said I looked just like him. It wasn’t an act.’ I pushed limp hair out of my face with my free hand. ‘I saw it all, in my head.’ Admitting it aloud made my eyes well, something I did not want to do in front of this man. Mar. Whatever. Rossi didn’t move. ‘She said you resembled whom?’ he whispered. ‘Do I have to repeat it?’ My voice dropped into a growl. ‘The man who raped my mother, nine months before I was born. He looked like me; I look like him.’ Then she called me her demon spawn. ‘You should have been there. It was quite the mother-daughter catch up.’ Rossi went slack. I seriously thought he might faint. ‘You alright? You’re not looking so good.’ His reaction wasn’t doing anything for my confidence. He ran his hands through his hair. ‘I don’t know what’s tripped you out. This makes more sense than your “other species” theory, and I don’t care how off the charts my blood is. With my luck, I inherited the dodgy gene from Dad, someone I’ll probably never find.’ ‘Ava!’ Pretty sure he wasn’t listening to my babble. ‘If you haven’t had human blood since the transfusion, how do you explain this?’ He moved so I could check the slide. ‘I really wish you would stop saying human like it didn’t include me.’ I gazed down the scope, the halogen light shrinking my pupils. The sample teemed with live blood cells rushing off to nowhere under the glass. ‘How do I explain it? Easy. Red cells, reticulocytes, neutrophils, platelets.’ I moved the stage a fraction. ‘Lymphocytes.’ ‘What are they doing?’ I found a spot that was thick with cells. It was a mini-battleground. I sat up straighter. ‘Yeah. Seen this before. It’s my fatal flaw — red blood cells sucking the daylights out of each other.’ ‘No …’ I glanced up at him. ‘Um, yeah. My reticulocytes are attracting oxygen, drawing it in from the hemoglobin-rich erythrocytes.’ I frowned. ‘It’s not unlike your dead blood mixed with human blood.’ That would need some research. ‘No,’ he whispered this time. Was he impaired? ‘Yes. This is oxygen exchange from the lungs, and a bad case of auto-immune disease. Kinda nixes the “I’m Mar” theory, doesn’t it? Since I have functional lungs?’ I scanned a bit more. ‘Don’t need “human” blood to survive, unless the flaw kicks in too heavy. Then a transfusion stabilises it.’ I sighed. It was only a temporary fix. ‘Proves my point though, wouldn’t you say?’ I lifted my head from the scope. ‘Rossi?’ I caught the door click shut. ‘Hey! I was having a conversation here.’ I looked down the scope again. Some red cells were fat and healthy, others were dying, shrinking like dried-up husks. Neutrophils were coming in to clean them up. A normal day in the life of Sykes and her weird blood disorder. As I studied the slide, the boat began to vibrate. I felt it from the floor, up the stool and to the bench top. ‘Rossi?’ My head snapped up. The gentle lapping against the hull shifted into a forward driving momentum. The stool fell over as I leapt off my perch and ran to the door. It was locked. I pounded the seamless carbon steel. ‘Let me out, you lunatic.’ ‘In a moment.’ His voice came from above. ‘We have to tell Teern.’ ‘So open the door and we’ll call him.’ I pulled my phone from my back pocket, pointing it in a few different directions, ready to ring Rourke. Hell, I’d reach out to Flanagan if I had to. No reception. ‘We have to meet Teern in deep water.’ ‘Hell no!’ ‘It won’t take long.’ Boy, was he not listening. ‘I don’t sail on the water!’ ‘Ava, what are you worried about? It’s the sea. What could be more safe.’ I thought of the oceanic hallucinations I’d experienced, and the attempted swimming lessons that had given me nightmares throughout my childhood, not to mention my own mother’s infanticide visions. ‘We have different ideas of safety.’ They weren’t hallucinations, Ava. That was my life story, from human to Mar. I realise now it must have been very confusing for you. I am sorry. He sounded sincere, but, no. ‘No! And stay out of my head.’ ‘You need to meet Teern. He needs to know you exist.’ Rossi’s voice was on the other side of the door. ‘You can’t tell me you’re afraid of the water. I refuse to believe it.’ This man had no freaking clue. ‘Ava, if you open your mind to Teern, an hour from now all your questions will be answered. And mine too. You’ll know your origins, your people. You can’t say no to that.’ His footsteps retreated. ‘Rossi! I’ll charge you with kidnapping. It’s a felony. Your career is over.’ My pounding fists punctuated every word. ‘Let me out.’ Within minutes, the engine cut out, pulleys squeaked and the speed picked up. I guessed we were under sail. I searched for a weapon and found a butcher’s knife in the kitchen. Gripping it in one hand, I returned to the door. Silent as a cat, I waited.

* * * Ava, put the knife down. He has x-ray vision? The door opened and Rossi stepped back. I raised the knife and charged. He grabbed both my wrists, faster than possible. I leaned back to headbutt him, managing only to slam his chest. Tall guy. ‘Ava, calm down.’ ‘Let me go.’ He did, and I bolted out to the deck … I don’t know where I expected to be, but finding myself under all that sail, surrounded by dark-blue water, stopped me dead. I turned toward shore. Two figures stood on the breakwater. I couldn’t make them out from this distance, but I bet they were my tails, Mark and Samuel. The sun rode west, lowering toward the horizon, late afternoon. The sky was still a smoggy brown, but where a bit of light cut through the clouds, it was amazing. I enjoyed it for all of two seconds, then the fear rolled back in. I planted myself on a bench seat and kept a tight grip on the edge. Rossi came and sat opposite. ‘Can I have the knife before someone gets hurt?’ It was my turn to fix him in a blazing stare. ‘Is this how you operate? You make a choice without my consent?’ ‘I apologise.’ ‘Not forgiven!’ His mouth turned down. ‘Teern has to know of you.’ ‘Yeah, you said that.’ I thought about the images I’d seen, of Rossi growing up in a long ago Roman Empire. ‘You understand about human rights, don’t you? It’s against the law to steal people?’ ‘I’m not stealing you.’ ‘It’s called kidnapping.’ He seemed to need the reminder. ‘I did not agree to go out to sea.’ We hit a small wave and I white-knuckled the rail. ‘Where’s Teern?’ I lifted my chin toward the open expanse. There were plenty of boats in the distance. None headed our way. ‘He’s coming.’ ‘And what is this big revelation, exactly? The must-know insight we couldn’t send in an email?’ ‘What I saw on the slide. Your own blood feeding off itself.’ ‘That’s right.’ I said it slowly. ‘Exactly what happens in auto-immune diseases.’ Had he lost his marbles? ‘It’s what would happen if your Mar blood fed off your human half.’ ‘What half?’ ‘If your mother is human and you have functional lungs, like her, oxygenating part of your blood, and your father is Mar, giving you Mar blood, which requires seawater, or human blood to survive on land, you are a completely self sustaining Mar, land or sea. Though …’ He pinched the bridge of his nose like these thoughts were hurting his head. ‘How you function in the sea remains to be seen. We have to tell Teern.’ All I could do was shake my head. ‘Ava, if it’s true, it means you’re a first.’ ‘First what?’ I snapped at him. ‘The first Mar-human ever born.’ ‘As opposed to hatched?’ He narrowed his eyes at me. ‘Did you learn nothing from the memories I shared?’ ‘Those coral-encrusted tombs?’ ‘Ma’atta.’ His voice became reverent. ‘We rise from the Ma’atta. Oldest living thing on earth, said to have come from ancient falling stars. Ma’atta literally means, “the beginning of all life”. Encased in it, our DNA mutates and, when ready, if the turn is true, we rise from our tombs, Mar.’ I licked my lips. There just wasn’t anything to say to that. Finally, Rossi broke the silence. ‘Who else knows?’ ‘About my mother?’ He nodded. ‘Rourke hunted her down for me. I told Cate, of course.’ My mind wandered to her for a moment. ‘I haven’t had a chance to tell Tom.’ ‘What about Bane?’ ‘I told him about my meeting, yeah.’ His warm comforting arms and that sweet honey kiss came flooding into my mind. ‘We should have done more tests from the start. You’re at great risk.’ ‘From Bane?’ ‘Him, or any Shen.’ ‘How can I tell who’s Mar? You all look like humans to me.’ I had to laugh. I mean, could I even take this seriously? ‘For one, if you listen, you can hear Mar thoughts.’ There was that. ‘Can I read human minds too?’ ‘Unfortunately, no.’ But I knew I’d heard Zoe’s thoughts, and Tom’s and I’d caught Rourke’s too recently. They sure as hell weren’t Mar, Shen or otherwise. Interesting. I decided to keep that little nugget to myself for now. ‘The shades are also a tip-off.’ ‘What’s with that?’ ‘The glare. Our blood vessels can’t be exposed to sunlight.’ ‘Alright.’ I relaxed my grip on the weapon. There was a hell of a lot of messed up shit going on in my life right now, but for all the crazy behaviour Rossi was exhibiting, his theories at least attempted to explain it. I couldn’t work myself up to feeling overly scared of him. Angry, yes, but frightened? I guess Rourke’s background check helped ease my mind. I handed over the knife. It wasn’t like I was going to carve him up anyway. And how would I get back to shore if I did? ‘I’ll consent. Take me to Teern, but let’s make it quick. I want to be home before dark.’ And I’ll never let myself be alone with you again! I didn’t like the idea of a shipboard rendezvous, but I wasn’t so scared I would miss an opportunity to unveil my past now that I was out here. Maybe Teern was ex-CHI Tech, like Rossi, and this was the only ‘safe’ way to meet. ‘Rossi, just so you know, if you ever lock me in a room again, I will break your legs. That’s a promise.’ He met my eyes. ‘Fair enough, but if you really are from a human-Mar coupling, you’ll forgive me, I promise.’ Don’t hold your breath. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

‘You can let go of the railing, Ava. It’s smooth as glass out here.’ I glanced at my grip. ‘Shut up.’ He sighed, his expression nudging over to pity. ‘It shouldn’t be like this.’ No shit. We should be on land, where people belong. I still can’t believe you think you’re a Lander. I still can’t believe you’re mentally ill. He tried to convince me of his theories, again. I ignored the absurdities. They were too uncomfortable to dwell on, so I focussed on the place we would be returning to, hopefully soon, once I’d met Teern: the harbour, and jagged coastline was distant, but clear. In the city, I rarely had the chance to test my long-distance vision. With contacts in, it was darn good. Nice skyline. ‘You have to admit, it’s beautiful out here.’ Rossi was gazing in the other direction, out to sea, his hands shading his eyes, even with his sunglasses on. ‘Says you.’ I sounded puerile, but his calm state, and trust in the boat, gradually wore away at me. I found a natural rhythm to the rise and fall of the prow and loosened the death grip a further notch. The spray misted salt crystals over my face. I licked my lips. I always liked a briny taste. It couldn’t be fresher than this. Hopefully, low on radiation and heavy metals. ‘We’re crossing the Riviera. Lean over. Take a peek.’ ‘I’m good.’ Part of me wanted to see the new sunken-treasure dive spot of the century, the aquatic wonder that was once the famous Riviera Country Club; another part of me would only look at the middle of the boat. Rossi jumped up to bring in the sail. He was as agile as a cat. Easy to watch. ‘This’ll do.’ ‘For what?’ I spoke a little louder than I needed to. Nerves. There were a few boats further north and south of us, at varying distances from shore, but I didn’t see any on an intercept course. Actually, they looked like toys on the horizon. ‘Where’s Teern?’ ‘I’m going to call him now.’ I heard the anchor rope running out of the hull. The current was strong, but we were holding position. I let go of the railing with one hand and pushed hair out of my face. It blew straight back into my eyes. What a day to forgo the French braid. The churning motion of the boat was less than pleasant. I knew motion sickness was caused by a disturbance in the vestibular system’s sense of movement. Judging by how ‘disturbed’ I was feeling, my sense of balance was way out of whack as well. ‘Call him how?’ I expected him to pull out his phone. ‘Is there reception?’ Rossi took his shirt off instead and my thoughts vanished clean out of my head. Whoa. That’s unexpected. He gave me a playful smile, as if for a moment, we really were on a date, or at least, two friends sailing in the bay. But he went serious again, and undid his pants. What the …? He laughed aloud. Get used to it. Mar aren’t exactly modest. Damn. I needed to avert my eyes. Like hell I would do that. ‘Are you seriously going to swim?’ The sun was still behind the clouds, the wind cool. Everything took on a green-gold hue, to me, and I watched, thinking he’d put on his board shorts, or wetsuit or whatever, but no. The man was stark freaking naked. Holy hallelujah. ‘I won’t be long.’ ‘What?’ I tore my eyes off his body, which was lining up to dive over the edge, and found his face. ‘No no no! Wait. You can’t leave me alone.’ Stay on board, his thoughts swirled into my head. Dive. Swoosh. Gone. ‘What the hell, Rossi. No way!’ I didn’t see any scuba gear, not even fins and mask. No snorkel. No rebreather. For the second time in a matter of days, I wanted to burst into tears. ‘You bastard.’ I spat the words out. How could he leave me here? What if he didn’t come back? I was working myself straight into the swirling vortex of panicsville. The sky was closing in; the sea would swallow me up. Tunnel vision made my eyes slam shut. Not good not good. Stop. A quieter part of my mind spoke. Find your centre. My voice echoed the tone and demand of Rourke, coaching me before a competition. Breathe. I obeyed my higher guide, who clearly had more grace than me at the moment. After a few conscious breaths, the walls retreated, a little. Big picture, Sykes, I told myself. No one’s beating you with a pipe. You aren’t being chained to an altar and your heart cut out, or being buried alive. All true things. Just chill out. Relax. He’ll be back. How far could he go, anyway? I kept up the commentary until my heartbeat slowed to something below a grand mal seizure rate. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Oh, hell. I sucked in large gulps. After a few moments, I started to realise Rossi hadn’t surfaced, that I could tell, and I really was alone on the sea, which triggered the fear-abandonment-panic cycle again. Too bad I wasn’t hooked up to an ECG. This would make great research for my internship next year. I was lost in those thoughts when a wave hit the deck, drenching me. The sea had been smooth as glass. Hardly a ripple. What was that? When I opened my eyes, sputtering, the answer was in front of me. I screamed like a college chick in a horror film, because suddenly I wasn’t alone any more. A naked woman, tall and gorgeous, stood on the rail. I slammed back into the seat, my eyes glued to her. There was only one thought in my head. She’s. Not. Human. Her height, her stance, the way she balanced on that narrow rail and jumped to the deck, her walk. Hell, the way she’d sprung out of the sea. Gravity didn’t appear to be much of an issue for her. Her arms were long, her expression sensual and curious. I’d call her stunningly attractive, if you didn’t count the pointy eye teeth. Definitely not human when she showed that off. And you think you are, sweetcakes? She shot the words into my head like they were turbocharged. My neck snapped back with the force of it. Let’s have a little look-see, shall we? Her hands came up to her flawless face, pushing the lengths of long wet hair back. No mean feat as it fell down her creamy skin and over naked hips to the backs of her knees. It was honey-blonde, at least in the late afternoon light. She had to be over six foot tall, an Amazon, with eyes so dark, they looked like black holes. She wasn’t shy, either, given her lack of clothing, and obvious lack of weapons. Except for those teeth. Instinctively, I jumped to my feet. Something about her cocky smile screamed ‘run.’ But on this tiny cork floating around on the sea, where to? She laughed, and put her hands on her hips. You’re Rossi’s Ava Sykes? My knees tried to absorb the rise and fall of the boat to lessen the head spins. ‘That’s me, but I’m not his anything.’ Especially after this string of events. ‘You?’ ‘Salila.’ Her voice was velvet smooth seduction, whether aloud or in my head. She pronounced it Sah-LEE- lah. Hindu? ‘Assuming you aren’t another hallucination, what do you want?’ ‘You.’ In two strides she grabbed me, hoisted her arms high, holding me over her head like a feather-filled pillow. ‘This way, pet.’ She threw me up in the air, over the railing and into the sea. I’ve never screamed louder in my life.

* * *

I bellyflopped onto the cold surface. It stung hard, like hitting concrete. The air rushed out of my lungs, cutting my wail short. I flailed around, beating the water, trying to punch my way free, until my head followed the rest of my body, down under the waves. I sank like a stone, as in my hallucinations, only this time, I was quite sure it was real. My contacts popped out, and water poured in my open mouth, down my oesophagus, into my stomach, and down my trachea into my lungs. It filled up every space inside me with its cold, salty hunger. Pain ripped through my chest as it rose and fell, trying to breathe air out of the sea. It couldn’t happen. I was conscious enough to note that in the midst of the madness. Help me! Help! The louder I screamed in my head, the more I heard laughter rising like bubbles, tickling and taunting. It brought a memory to the front of my mind: me, as an infant, underwater and laughing up at my own mother who was trying to drown me. Maybe I’m having a psychotic breakdown. Part of me knew it would be over soon, that I’d already burned through what limited oxygen was left in my bloodstream. Even for me, the one who could hold her breath the longest of anyone and resist tapping out from even the tightest chokeholds, this was it. Consciousness was slipping away, darkness inking in. Only it wasn’t. I continued to feel everything, including tons of water over me, and even though I had a good two hundred feet of visibility, this was aqueous fluid, not air. Not air, Ava. Think what you are saying. I was still conscious. Alive, and starting to feel, um, better. The excruciating spasms in my chest subsided. My feet touched lightly on the top of a metal perch that turned out to be a slightly bent streetlight overlooking a sunken intersection. I clung to it, wrapping my legs around the pole to keep from drifting the rest of the way to the seafloor. The desperate need to breathe was gone. I sat there, on top of the pole, mostly dumbstruck, while part of me enjoyed the view. I’d never witnessed anything more surreal, or more spectacular. Fifteen years under the sea had turned this part of the coast into a coral encrusted page out of California history, salt preserved. I saw everything clearly, and that didn’t make sense. My contacts were gone and I was batshit-blind without them. Not anymore. Rows of streetlights, like the one I clung to, poked out of the silt and sand. Cars that hadn’t been worthy of salvaging lay on their sides or upside down, brown with rust and covered in anemones, green, yellow and brilliant red. Huh? Red? I could see it. Inexplicable. The red spectrum vanished at fifteen feet under the surface, and I was way deeper than that. Baitfish swam in large schools over the streets, like silver bees swarming. In the rubble below, a street sign poked out of the cracked road. It read unset Blvd. That made me laugh. I turned to look behind me, across the expanse, and sure enough I spotted the famous Riviera Golf Course. The clubhouse was on a knoll, now half hidden in kelp gardens. The Spanish-style tiled roof was covered in life, glinting under beams of afternoon sun. Damn, it was sensational. When I saw a flash of silver from the corner of my eye, the euphoria vanished. I became aware of a dozen long sleek bodies weaving ribbonlike from windows and back through doors, up and down the levels of ruined structures. They circled around the intersection, their side-to-side undulations and downturned mouths unmistakable. Yeah, I’d seen the remastered Jaws series, all seven of them. Sharks! I didn’t know the species. They were moving too fast around the baitfish for me to count gill slits or estimate tail to dorsal fin ratios. They started working themselves into a frenzy as blood inked the water. Dark-red blood. I tried to swim away, but with my clothes on, tight jeans creating drag, as well as the weight of my sneakers, not to mention the severe lack of skill, I floundered. Help! I cried out, arms thrashing. Great. That drew their attention. A few sharks broke off from the feed, swimming through the now-chummed water to me. I froze, sinking slowly to the seafloor. Rossi! Help! I didn’t want to go out pathetic, but there it was. Help! He’s busy right now, little Lander- fish. The words cut into my brain, snapping my head to the side. Damn, Salila could project. I recognised the Mar bitch who had thrown me overboard by her impact on my neurons, as well as the sound of her voice. A long, pale streak darted in. Her Rapunzel-length hair fanned out, and her long, naked body undulated. I thought she was going to go after the sharks, like a bulldog into a pack of wolves, but no. Those huge, circling, open-mouthed, jagged-toothed killers scattered the instant she showed up. Next thing I knew, Salila was in my face, laughing at me. I was impressed she could do it so well underwater. I suspected she’d had many years of practice, though she looked my age. Salila. I didn’t want to think how deadly she had to be, to frighten a shark. Ten of them, but who’s counting? She grabbed my arm and took off like a shot, dragging me behind. Gods of Atlantis, you’re a pathetic little polyp. Where’d you learn to swim? Haven’t. I tried a few times to wrench my arm out of her grip and gave up. She was ridiculously strong. Where’re we going? Teern doesn’t believe you exist. Miguel can’t convince him, poor cuttlefish. She wrenched me across the water so she could change hands. Can’t wait to see Teern’s face when he gets a look at you. She banked around a reef and picked up speed. This’ll be priceless. I wasn’t sure what to make of her words. Her tone, though, especially the way she said Miguel, like his name was rich, mouthwatering chocolate slowly dissolving on her tongue, was making my ass clench. And where’s Teern? Over the drop-off. You might want to clear your ears.

* * *

The water turned to a deep emerald as it rushed by. Salila pulled me in her wake so fast I couldn’t even bring my hand up to pinch my nose and attempt to equalise the pressure in my head. Oddly, it cleared on its own. As darkness swallowed us, the bioluminescence blossomed, bringing a new light to the world. It streamed by so quickly though, I couldn’t make anything out, until finally my jet-propulsion companion cut her engines and drifted to a stop. We’re here. She smiled, which gave me way too close a view of her spiky teeth. Great. Now you can let go of me. I planned to disconnect from her iron grip, but her fingers wouldn’t budge. I rolled my wrist inward, automatically using a move to bring her hand close to my chest, allowing me to peel those fingers back, but in a weightless world, I only managed to pull myself to her, completely off balance. None of that, small fry. Her hair rippled about in the current. We were in front of a reef that opened into a cave. I don’t know how deep it was, but the water felt heavy against my skin, and I was pretty sure Salila’s eyes were bugging out a bit. I looked down at my fingers. They were wrinkled like prunes. Now listen to me, scallop. You’re going to stick close, keep your thoughts in your head and show some respect. Teern’s not going to be amused by your inadequacies, not like Miguel and I are. There it was again. His name; her sensual pronunciation. I hated it. Jealous? She tugged me into the cave. Hardly. I tried to twist out of her grip again. No luck. But the cave was extraordinary, a sparkling mosaic of bright-blue starfish, jewel-encrusted abalone, red hermit crabs and orange, blue and purple dotted nematodes. Medusas pulsed through the water around the entrance, and I noticed Salila avoided the long, threadlike tentacles, so I did too. Rock fish from dazzling Garibaldi, our State fish, to green lingcod, hovered about the crevices in the walls. The water felt warmer, the light magical, and the sounds, murmuring susurrations around me, were the most peaceful audio vibrations I’d ever heard. It’s pretty. Salila pulled me to a stop. You might want to think about expanding your vocabulary. Teern doesn’t suffer fools. Suffer fools? Put up with ineptitude. I’m familiar with the term. I just wasn’t used to anyone associating it with me. I think — Shut up! We’re here. My eyes pulled away from her gaze. I had to push back lengths of her hair, a dark violet in this light, as it floated in front of me. When it cleared, I saw in the distance a formation of rock carved into a throne. It looked to be made out of jade; smooth swirls of green and black. But that wasn’t the attraction. Um, no. It was the man, or manlike creature, lounging on it who had me riveted. The muscular shoulders screamed male, but there was so much hair streaming about him, long like Salila’s, only pitch-black, I couldn’t make out the rest of his features. There was a beard, and a face, from what I could see, like a lion. I stared, mouth open, trying to take it all in. The word sphinx came to mind, and king. The king of the sea, or maybe the god. I looked on in awe and realised I could hear his voice, subtle at first then booming into my head. You waste my time, Miguel! Teern, she’s different. One of us, but better. You think walking on land is ‘better?’ To what purpose? Our tombs are here. Our life is here. Our sustenance the sea. Landers are nothing. She is nothing. It wasn’t hard for me to work out who ‘she’ was, or Teern’s opinion on the matter. Rossi didn’t seem to be aware of me and Salila. He was certainly talking like I wasn’t in the room. Way to make a girl feel special. Salila laughed. At least my thoughts had some comedic value for her. But what she is changes everything! Rossi was louder now. How? You think our tombs will be any safer from the Shen? Will we suddenly be free of our constant vigil? They’ve become too powerful. One little girl isn’t going to change that. I disagree. Absurd! Even if it is true. He said the words with finality. The entire cave shook. When it settled, he went on to another topic. Atlantic is clear, for now, but there are still pockets of Shen in New York City, enmeshed in Wall Street. They’re playing hell with the Landers’ financial affairs. I thought you said the Landers don’t matter. They don’t, but repercussions to the sea do. The West Coast is another matter. That was it? The Ava Sykes conversation was over? I wasn’t impressed by the instant dismissal. Salila looked at me, a new curiosity in her eyes. Rossi turned my way as well, but his expression was something else altogether. Shock and anger mostly. Uh oh. Quiet, Salila and Rossi both whispered in my mind. What, so he doesn’t see me? I knew it was too late for that. Slowly, Teern turned his head. The stare flattened me against the wall. It wasn’t much comfort to feel Salila flattened beside me. Her cocky vibe was out with the tide. She was as scared of Teern as I was. Rossi was in front of us in an instant, shouting at Salila, threatening to mince her to pieces for the sharks while trying to explain my presence to Teern. The combination of placating and rage was something to see. You wouldn’t think a person could be both at once, but he pulled it off. Teern, on the other hand, pushed Rossi aside. This is the mongrel? He had my wrist in his hand in less than a blink. He nicked it with a canine, a pinprick, and touched the welling drop of blood with his tongue. His eyes closed. Hey! I snapped back my hand when he released it. Teern ignored me. She is half-blood, both Lander and Mar. Rossi relaxed. So you see! We have to protect Ava from the Shen. Rossi had a hand on my shoulder. I was pretty sure he was trying to keep me quiet. Like that’s going to happen. Protect her? Why? What good is she, a woman-born child, not raised from the Ma’atta? Her half-blood is a dilution of our race. Let the Shen have her, if they’re fool enough. Newsflash. Nobody’s ‘having’ me, not without my permission. Rossi’s grip tightened. We’d be fools to ignore this, Teern. She can breathe in both worlds. She’s stronger than us by day. She needs training, but … Teern waved an enormously long hand through the water. The wake knocked Rossi into me, and me further into the wall. The West Coast is the issue now, especially with the contaminants. Teern, please reconsider. Ava can help. We’re losing this battle. It’s time to move the tombs, again. Teern talked on about tactics and Shen this and Mar that. I lost the thread when the pronoun she disappeared. It was over. My introduction to the Mar side of the family tree had gone about as well as meeting my birth mother. A pressure built in my chest as my shoulders sagged. Rossi’s hand reached out and found mine. He gave it a squeeze and didn’t let go. It would have felt comforting, if I let it, but my throat went tight and my body stiffened. It was easier to face-off in a shouting match with that sea lion- monster of a man Teern, than accept the kindness from Rossi. Screw this shit! I jerked my hand back and swam out of the cave. Actually, I did an aquatic version of stumble. Maybe I should learn to swim. Somehow, an Olympic-size pool wasn’t so scary any more, and this floundering wasn’t getting me anywhere. At the cave entrance, the watery world looked like an aerial shot of LA at night, a dark expanse with twinkling lights etched in shadow. I looked up at a distant surface and started kicking that way, like I’d seen divers do on the nature channel. Rossi caught up before I’d gone very far. Ava, wait. Not that way. He reached for my hand and took off in another direction. It was Salila all over again, what with the speed and the grip and me being buffeted along behind. Let go! I wrapped my hand over his fingers and peeled them back, breaking his hold on me. Of course, I started to sink immediately, and tried to counter with the flail-about swimming style that I was sure to become famous for. He grabbed for my other arm and I rolled, managing to clock him on the chin with my heel, only it was in slow motion, hardly a deterrent. Wearing sneakers instead of my steel-toed boots didn’t help. On second thoughts, the Tims would be hefty sinkers. While I tried kicking the other way, he clamped on to my waistband. I laid a right hook to his jaw. That just made him mad. For the next few moments we were in a cat and dog fight, tumbling tail over teakettle, going for each other’s throats. At least, I was going for his. He might have been holding back. I landed more than a few good punches and kicks. Rossi did the same. The difference was, he was fast in the water. Lightning fast. Before long he had my back pinned to his chest as he propelled us onward again. He fluctuated between apologising to me and cursing Salila, who had vanished completely. Smart. I noticed Rossi didn’t have a single swear word for Teern, who I thought was the biggest jerk of them all. Don’t think that, Ava. I’ll think whatever the hell I like! You won’t like it if he hears you. I would have shrugged if I could move. Rossi wasn’t taking any chances this time. I was pressed tight into his chest. Thoughts of Teern’s dismissal continued to course through my head, and I let them. It kept me from thinking about Rossi’s totally hot, totally naked body against mine. His thoughts, on the other hand, were focussed in another direction. He’d spotted Salila. We were out of the drop-off and back over the expanse of the Riviera in lightning-quick time. Salila must have thought to hide in the shark-infested waters. It was an effective keep out sign for me, seeing them flash in and out of view. Not so for Rossi. Fortunately, the creatures scattered from him even faster than they’d done from Salila. He swam in and out of a few buildings, me clamped tight to his chest, until he found her. Instantly, she turned and ran. Swam. Stop! he commanded. Enough! It was a testament to his authority that she obeyed, though her expression had plenty of attitude when she appeared in front of us. We all tread water, not far above the streetlight I’d perched on when first falling into this world. She crossed her arms and stuck out her aristocratic chin. What is the big, fish-gutting deal? Ava didn’t drown. I proved a point, and your precocious half-blood is at no risk. Hardly the issue! Rossi said. Really? Did you know she was Mar, for sure? Salila asked. Half-Mar, I corrected. Whatever. Salila was not impressed. Miguel, you couldn’t have been certain until she hit the deep. I’d planned to test her in a swimming pool, Rossi said, as if I wasn’t right under his nose. Test? I tried to turn around and punch him, but couldn’t budge. This must be how babies felt when their parents strapped them to their chests in those carrybags. Ava, it’s not how it sounds. I’ll explain in a minute. I can’t wait to hear that. Salila couldn’t have sounded more taunting. Face it, Miguel, Teern’s not interested in your little discovery. He’ll change his mind, when he understands. Really? Is that before or after he orders her put down? What’s that supposed to mean? My anger was rising, and so was Rossi’s. It’s not going to happen, Salila. She’s our most valuable member. Teern doesn’t see it that way. I’m not finished with him yet, Rossi yelled. But he’s finished with you. Salila was clever. She’d managed to take the focus off her own ass and put it on a much bigger worry: Teern. You’re not going to let her get away with this, are you? I wanted him to pound her into the sand, at least. She tried to drown me, don’t forget. Salila turned to me. No, baby sweetcakes, I just wanted to see if it was true. You dragged me miles into the deep. Because you couldn’t scare off a few puny sharks. Puny? They were fifteen foot and about to rip my insides out. Girls, stop it. We both turned to Rossi. Well, Salila turned and I tried to look over my shoulder, saying at the same time, Girls! Women. He shook his head. Listen, Salila, you can help. Meet me tomorrow under the Sunset Shoal. I have to get Ava out of the water. I could come with you now. No! This time it was Rossi and me speaking in unison. I’m not sure what his reasons were, but I felt Salila and New LA would not be a healthy mix. Rossi swam for the boat, me in tow. Salila disappeared. As we neared the surface, the water turned rose red. Beams of light from the setting sun created rippling curtains of purple, gold and crimson. I wanted Rossi to slow down, let me bask in it, but he kept going. The moment my head broke the surface, clarity vanished into a dull wash of green and navy. I tried to suck in a lungful of air and started choking. Rossi leapt onto the boat, me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. I pulled away when we hit the deck and promptly threw up.

* * *

‘I’m so sorry, Ava.’ I couldn’t make out Rossi’s face, but the words sounded sincere. He was sailing back to the coast, leaving the sun to set behind us. Hopefully he could make out a lot more of the topography than me. It wouldn’t take much. My contacts were gone, and out of the water, the myopia was back in force. I missed the superwoman vision, but I guess that was the least of my concerns. ‘Really sorry.’ ‘You keep saying that, Rossi, but it doesn’t explain anything.’ ‘I’m hoping it will sink in.’ ‘Is that a pun?’ ‘It’s a lot to cope with, I know.’ ‘You mean once upon a time that fishwoman threw you into the water, or maybe slipped you some acid and dragged you into the deep?’ ‘That’s not what I meant.’ ‘Didn’t think so.’ Rossi was not on my ‘top friends’ list right now. The only thing keeping me from running a mile was the fact that we were still on the boat, in the water. At sea. The reality struck. I may not have been comfortable down there, but I didn’t drown, or breathe, in the normal sense anyway. I’m Mar. A half-blood. That was going to take some major processing. Had CHI Tech known? Is this Rossi’s connection with them? It put a whole new light on the experiments they’d done. ‘It’s not what I expected, Ava. Teern’s reaction, and Salila showing up like that. I thought she was in the Gulf.’ He made it sound like the bitch siren had interrupted an afternoon tea party, not thrown me overboard into shark-infested waters, and dragged me to a cave where the alpha of all Mar dwelled. ‘Ditto with the unexpected.’ ‘Are you warm enough?’ ‘I’m fine.’ I huddled under a blanket, shivering. It wasn’t all from the cold, but I didn’t want Rossi to know it. I was utterly spent, ping-ponging between wanting to chew him a new one and wishing there was a hole I could crawl into and perish. On top of it all, I caught this intermittent feeling of elation. It washed over me every few minutes, like a wave of warm energy that flashed on and off. I’d been under the freaking sea, and it was amazing. I’m Mar, and I belong to a people. It could mean I had a place, a clan, and it, they, were beautiful and dangerous, and powerful. I exhaled long and slow. Only hitch was, my place, my people, didn’t want me. Back to perishing in the hole. Teern doesn’t see the potential, the gift that you are. He’ll come around. Right. My thoughts weren’t my own. I’d forgotten. ‘Stay the hell out of my head, Rossi!’ Everything’s going to work out. I glared at him. ‘Sorry.’ He coughed. ‘It’s hard not to speak naturally.’ ‘Try!’ It was the first time I saw him at a loss. ‘How can I make this better?’ He actually pleaded. ‘You can’t.’ I closed my eyes. The shakes were getting worse. ‘I just want to go home.’ CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

‘You’re not going home like this.’ We were moored in the berth, finally, and I wasn’t planning to hang around. But without contacts, vision was a non- event. Anything more than one foot away from me was a wash. I tried to relax into it. Hell, I’d survived Salila, sharks in feeding frenzy and other monsters of the deep, i.e. Teern, so talking to Rossi, who looked like a tall shadow looming over me, was easy. Ha. Okay, not so easy. Worse, he had a point. ‘You’re hypothermic, disoriented and soaked to the bone.’ ‘Whose fault is that?’ ‘Mine, so let me help.’ He reached for my arm and I jerked it back. ‘I’ll call the cab myself.’ My hand went to my back pocket. Empty. ‘Where’s my damn phone?’ I knew the answer. It had gone overboard, like me, only it never resurfaced. ‘I’ve got a burner you can have, but first, take a hot shower. I’ll find you some dry clothes.’ My teeth chattered so hard I couldn’t keep arguing with his logic. And, I knew most ER doctors used burner phones when they didn’t want to give out their private numbers. I wasn’t surprised he had a stack of them. ‘Fine. Point the way, and while you’re at it, can you give the okay sign so my tail doesn’t come storming the place?’ He did what I asked and led me to the bathroom. ‘Hot’s on the left and —’ ‘I can figure it out.’ He started to help with my clothes and I shoved him out the door and locked it. It wasn’t easy to peel out of my wet skintight jeans, but I managed. Once under the shower, I stopped shivering until a different kind of convulsion began. Both the experience with my mother, her fear and disgust, and the nullifying voice of Teern, who was the same kind of creature as my father, hit home. If that wasn’t enough to bring down my core sense of self, the answer to the lifelong question, Who am I, did the trick. Mar and Lander. A half-blood, an outcast, one foot in each world, belonging to neither. By the time I turned off the water, my skin was hot to the touch, and so were the tears. I fumbled for a towel and buried my face in it. How would I ever explain this to Cate? To Rourke? Tom? What would happen to me now? A sudden knock on the door spun me around. ‘I found some clothes that will fit.’ I wrapped myself in the towel and opened the door a crack. Rossi extended his arm, not pushing in. I took the bundle and closed the door again. When I emerged, I was in a small tee-shirt, a way too big hoodie, and black drawstring pants, towel over my shoulders. ‘Feel better?’ I gave a curt nod and switched on the burner, about to search for a cab. ‘Please. I can take you home.’

* * *

Rossi drove me to Cate’s, and walked me to the door. ‘Why’s my sight worse?’ It scared me how little I could see. ‘Same reason you need glasses. It’s a side effect of your mixed blood. But now that your eyes have done what they are designed to do, they’ll adjust back, as soon as you have your contacts in.’ I was almost afraid to ask. ‘Designed how?’ ‘To alter shape. Did you notice the telescopic vision? The macro?’ ‘I saw the redshift too.’ I waited for him to explain that. ‘Infrared. We all see it underwater. Glad you inherited that trait.’ From my father. I stiffened at the thought. ‘Two steps. Here’s the door.’ ‘I know the way.’ They had the music on inside, cranked up. I rang the bell and turned to squint at the street. ‘Are there many cars?’ ‘The street’s lined, both sides.’ ‘Great.’ ‘Party people?’ ‘Understatement.’ I made a decision. ‘I’m not staying here.’ The door swung open before Rossi could respond. ‘Ava! Ava! Ava!’ Cate sputtered my name, undulating the sounds as if her vocal cords were on a roller coaster ride. ‘You here! So so so so glad. I’ve news! You’ll. Be …’ She managed to punctuate her sentences in really weird places. Talk about fragmented thoughts. It completely distorted the meaning. ‘Cate. What have you been doing?’ Joey joined her. He wasn’t a lot better, and in total alpha male mood to boot, judging by the swearing and swaggering. ‘Ava. You again.’ Not quite as warm as Cate’s greeting. ‘Only for a minute.’ I turned to Rossi. ‘Can you wait in the car for me? This won’t take long.’ I focussed on getting inside and picking up my gear before the neighbours called the cops. I felt my way down the hall, pushing past people lining the walls. Cate stumbled after me. ‘I’ll help.’ ‘Sweetie, you’re wasted. You need to sleep it off.’ ‘She’d better be more than drunk, with what they shell out.’ Joey slurred his words. ‘Who’s shelling out, Joey?’ ‘VIP.’ Cate giggled. ‘We’re given a stash, start of each shift.’ ‘Terrific.’ I kept my voice cool, which was an effort because I wanted to stomp Joey’s ass on the spot. Steady, Sykes. Think of the priorities. Number one was getting Cate’s tongue out of my ear. She turned to me, all smiles. ‘Primo “e”. Ava. It’s.’ She stopped dead mid- sentence and twitched. Something fascinating had caught her attention. It appeared to be in a different reality. I headed for the spare room, but Cate pulled me back, her voice taking on a conspiratorial tone as she whispered at the top of her lungs. ‘I’m promoted.’ ‘Cate?’ I had a hand on both sides of her face, mostly so I could keep her in focus. ‘Are you really working the VIP floor?’ She held up her pointer finger. ‘Isn’t it great?’ she slurred. ‘Your eyes are so pretty.’ Cate tilted to one side. Oh, hell. I couldn’t fix this right now. ‘Cate, go to bed. I’m getting my gear and heading home.’ Cate started tugging me through a crowd of people toward Joey’s bedroom. ‘More pills?’ ‘No thanks, Cate.’ I grabbed my things, popped in fresh contacts and left. Rossi had the car running when I emerged with my pack. We rode without speaking a word for the ten minute drive to my apartment. He broke the silence when we were a block away. ‘Are you sure you want to stay here, alone?’ ‘Positive.’ After what I’d been through, the copycat killer would have to wait for my attention. He was no longer top of my worry list. ‘I can check it out first.’ ‘Not necessary.’ Part of me wanted to find someone hiding in my closet so I could beat the crap out of them. Not the most generous vibe, but it was honest. Rossi touched my arm lightly. ‘Ava, I’m here for you.’ ‘Yeah, about that. I think I’ve had all the help from you I can take for a while.’ I reached around the back, grabbed the Techno Inc bag and said goodbye. I was out of the car and up the steps before he could reply, verbally that is. It’s disorienting, being in the sea and using your Mar blood to pull oxygen from the water. No shit? Sleep is best. I’ll call you tomorrow. He didn’t leave. The green Subaru’s here. Nifty. You can go now. When I’d done a sweep, he said goodnight and drove away. I switched on the burner and called Rourke. Seemed fair to let him, and my tail, know I was staying here again, though with the Subaru in sight, they already did. He would chew me out for sailing off with Rossi, which was expected. He didn’t know the half of it. I left a brief message and hung up. My cupboards were close to bare, but I made a mug of hot cocoa before curling up in bed. For the first time in twelve years, I cried myself to sleep. CHAPTER NINETEEN

My eyes flew open when someone buzzed my intercom. I really hated being awakened this way. I hitched up the drawstring pants Rossi had lent me and padded out to press the com. ‘Who’s there?’ ‘Daniel Bane.’ Hell no. ‘Just a sec.’ I scooted to the bathroom and splashed water on my face, giving me time to think. Should I let him in? Could he give me more answers? I went to the door, buzzed him in and slid back the deadbolt. In a moment, Daniel Bane stood in front of me. ‘You haven’t answered your phone.’ He didn’t seem happy. ‘I lost it over, um, at Cate’s. Am I working tonight?’ I had no idea what time it was. Hell, I wasn’t really sure what day it was. Why was Bane at my door? And, was he picking up on these thoughts? ‘The meeting at CDC starts in forty- five minutes.’ He looked me up and down. ‘The meeting?’ I’d said yes to the CDC excursion. Stupid, maybe, if I trusted Rossi. But, did I? Daniel Bane seemed like the one normal thing in my life right now. ‘There’s time for you to change.’ ‘I overslept.’ What with all the swimming I’d done the night before. Don’t think about that! ‘Cate had a party after work.’ He smiled. ‘Shall I make coffee while you quickly shower?’ I hid the bristles that skipped up my spine. I wasn’t in the habit of being told when to shower, quickly or otherwise, but I had questions for him. Delicate questions requiring tact. It would pay to keep it light and breezy. ‘Coffee sounds good.’ I pulled the packet out of the freezer for him. ‘You have to press the start button a few times before the light goes on.’ I grabbed the last clean towel from the hall closet. ‘I’ll just be a minute.’ He responded by looking at his watch. After a quick shower, I emerged from my bedroom in my only pair of dress pants, black, and the only top I had with buttons. It was turquoise, raw silk. It made a good match to Daniel and his pressed charcoal slacks and pale-blue dress shirt. Definitely a step up from my camos and tank tops. My hair was down. Somehow, I didn’t think CDC spelled ponytail and there wasn’t time for an elaborate braid. He placed a steaming mug in my hand. My guard had been up, as it should be, given all the facts, but strangely, I could feel it melting away. It felt comforting to have Daniel Bane in my kitchen, which I couldn’t say of just any man. Rossi’s accusations seemed as far- fetched as my underwater tour, in light of the new day. But that underwater world was real, and so might be Daniel’s Shen affiliations, though I wasn’t sure what it might mean. Even so, I couldn’t muster much caution, or guard. This is wrong, right? ‘Do you have a question, Ava?’ ‘I’m worried.’ I drew in a deep breath. ‘About Cate.’ A roundabout way to the topic, but it was the truth. ‘Really?’ Daniel searched the cupboards. ‘You have no food.’ ‘Haven’t shopped.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘We’ll grab something for you on the way.’ ‘I’m fine.’ I blew on the rim of the cup. ‘Cate’s enthusiastic about her prospects at Poseidon.’ ‘Yes, so am I.’ ‘But I’m not.’ ‘You disapprove?’ He looked incredulous. I took a sip of coffee before answering. ‘She’s sensitive, unguarded and a little too open to drug abuse. If she doesn’t pick her studies back up, what then? She can’t be a siren forever.’ He chuckled at that, which I found inappropriate, unless I got the context wrong. ‘I’ll take good care of your friend, Ava. She’s one of our best sirens.’ He looked again at his gold watch. I gulped down the rest of my coffee and led him out into the midday sun. It felt like the height of summer already. Stinking hot. Bane’s Cadillac Escalade was parked right in front of the feature maple. Mrs Beal’s cat, Snick, was sharpening his claws on the tree trunk, stretching up as high as he could reach. He took one look at us and bolted, a streak of ginger, heading around the back. What spooked you? Daniel didn’t notice. He unlocked the Caddie with a beep and opened the passenger side for me. ‘We should still be on time,’ he said as he took the driver’s seat. The air con blasted my hair, drying the sweat that had already beaded on my forehead. I started asking questions before we hit second gear. Daniel Bane couldn’t have been more reassuring. He denied any knowledge of free drugs before shifts and insisted that floor staff be urine tested, to be safe. With the ‘sensitive’ nature of the subterranean club, and the elite clientele, they couldn’t be too careful. He suggested that Cate’s boyfriend was full of shit, not in those words, but that’s what he meant. I tuned into his mental thoughts and picked up nothing to the contrary. I knew there were other things I should question Bane on, but for the life of me, I couldn’t think of them. When we reached the CDC, I let it all go, allowing myself to be swept up in my dreams for the future. The thought of being a fly on the wall at a meeting of this calibre was exciting enough, but realising Daniel’s role made it even more so. He was a man who could make things happen. That wasn’t lost on me. We walked through huge, automatic glass doors and waited in line for the security check. After being scanned, Daniel was handed a pass on a blue satin ribbon. It had his image on it, his own personal CDC ID. I was given a generic one on a white cord and we hurried up the elevator to the third floor conference room. I soaked everything in. This was where I would do a four-year internship, if I was lucky enough to get in. Daniel Bane, for better or worse, could be instrumental in me landing that position. We paused at the conference room doors and were escorted straight to the head of a very large table, almost every seat occupied. Moments later, the meeting began. Daniel Bane had a powerful speaking voice. No surprise there. He had me convinced of his argument, hands down. His donation to the CDC was going to change health standards for everyone in the State, and provide a model for global standards as well. After more discussion and a lot of gratitude for Bane going round the room, tea was served and the mood turned informal. Bane introduced me to the chief of staff, the board of directors and the department heads of hematology, bacteriology and virology, including Dr Ripley, who I knew was on the intern selection board. Not only did Bane introduce me, he added titillating comments: A promising graduate. Keep your eye on her. She’s impressing her professors at UCLA. I wanted to kiss him. I knew enough about men to figure out he and Rossi had some kind of a grudge match going on, but Daniel Bane was acting in my best interests. He walked the talk. The CDC was about to take saving lives and protecting people to a whole new level because of his donations. Standing there, mixing it up with the top scientific minds in the country, it became clear: I wanted in and Bane offered himself as a doorway. Whatever Rossi thought about Shen was yet to be proven. Besides, if Daniel was Mar, of any kind, wouldn’t he be able to help me understand my origins just as much as Rossi? And maybe without that crazy longlegs throwing me in the deep end. The ride home felt more companionable than our earlier conversation in his car. Daniel insisted we stop at a sushi train for a quick bite. By then I was starving. I didn’t ruin the meal by accusing him of atrocities or pressing for personal information. Like, were you born, or did you rise from an underwater tomb? When we parked outside my apartment, he leaned in to kiss me and for a second I was swept away. Energy tingled through my body like a low voltage shock. When he sat back, I was still purring with it. ‘Shall we have dinner tomorrow?’ he asked, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. ‘I’d like that.’ It felt like I was floating on clouds. Once inside my apartment, the bliss lasted all of five minutes. I shook my head as if my brain had been abducted, and only just returned. The past twenty- four hours washed over me, and I felt a rush of anger. I just wasn’t sure at what. I threw my gi into my backpack and changed into jeans, a black sports bra, white tee and my Converse high-tops. Time to head to the academy. Maybe after a few hours of going hard on the mats, things would make more sense. Besides, there was something I had to face. Right now it felt like the perfect distraction. I checked the time schedule and ran to the bus stop hoping my stalker wouldn’t choose now to attack. I really didn’t want to miss training.

* * *

The afternoon air was sultry. Inside, it wasn’t much better. I paused at the door, swallowed the lump rising in my throat and entered. Time to apologise and join the regular classes again. I kept my eyes forward, feeling the stares on my way to the lockers. There were plenty of empties on the girls’ side, nothing new there, but I sure wasn’t expecting the bright chipper face looking up at me as she wriggled out of her short dress. ‘Zoe?’ ‘Ava! You made it.’ What the hell is my ex’s new girl doing here? I sucked in a breath. ‘You’re training now?’ ‘It was my idea, but Tom encouraged me. He’s so supportive, don’t you think?’ I thought a lot of things, none I cared to share. ‘Today’s your first day?’ She nodded, her blonde hair falling over her face. I unlaced my high-tops, dropped my jeans and peeled out of my tee. While I tied my drawstring pants, I glanced at her again. ‘You’ll want to braid your hair, or put it up.’ I pulled a hairband off my wrist and handed it to her. ‘Lose the bracelets, necklace and the gum.’ She smiled, and did as I said, looking about ten years younger with a braid than she had a moment before, which, of course, made her practically pre-teen. ‘I hoped you’d come. Reception was majorly serious with all those release forms. Any tips?’ ‘Yeah. Don’t talk, unless you have a really good question.’ Okay. That was rude, but the last thing I had in mind for when I delivered my apology was to have Zoe listening in. Super-size humble pie. She dropped her eyes, looking like I’d slapped her. Shit. I put my arm around her for a nanosecond and pulled her into me before letting go. ‘I meant, pay attention to the professor, and don’t worry. I’ll keep you under my wing.’ She brightened, and kept quiet. When we bowed at the doorway, and onto the mats, Jeff and a few others greeted me. Of course, their eyes were popping at Zoe. It was like I’d brought them an after-school snack. You dogs … I nodded to them, glacier cool. ‘This is Zoe. She’s here to train.’ The emphasis was on the serious nature of our practice in martial arts. They didn’t take the hint. Jeff thrust his hand out to hers and shook it. He seemed to have completely forgotten the trauma of the other night. If he only knew what happened after. ‘Great to have you here, Zoe. Don’t let Ava give you a hard time. If you need a mentor, I’m your man.’ Oh puh-leeze! ‘Cool your jets,’ I said to him under my breath. The others closed in on Zoe, giving me a wide berth. ‘So how’d you two meet?’ Jeff asked. ‘Don’t answer that,’ I said to Zoe. ‘I’m dating her ex,’ she said at the same time. ‘You know him? Tom. He’s dreamy.’ My face heated. I’d thought the hardest part of today would be delivering the apology. Guess I was wrong. Rourke was there, and Dom. No sign of Jimmy. He wouldn’t be back on the mats for a while yet, and by the look in Dom’s eyes, he blamed me for it. Well, why wouldn’t he? I hospitalised the bastard. And he started it. After warm-ups, Rourke called on me, as expected. He looked like he’d lost weight. I thought about that for a second, then shoved it aside to clear my head. Public speaking was not my thing, especially ad lib. I stood in front of the class and stumbled through an apology. They listened without any show of emotion. I returned to my place and class was underway, training as usual. I wasn’t stripped of my belt rank and kicked out, so all in all, it went pretty well. Zoe looked at me with new eyes, putting it together, I guess. She’d walked in on me and Tom a few hours after I’d lost it in the cage. Weird thing was, in her expression, I saw respect. Every guy on the mat volunteered for Zoe duty, but Rourke picked me, thank the demons and gods. Someone had to orient her and I wanted to make sure it was done right. In other words, my way. She was too old for the kids’ class, but only just, and that was my domain. I taught her basic drills and showed her a few techniques. When it came time to spar, we rolled a bit. She used the ‘takedown’ I’d taught, pretty damn effectively for her first try. Better than I’d imagined, but to be honest, I wasn’t expecting much. Zoe was full of surprises. Which Tom saw without looking, I guess. Halfway through the class, Rourke ran off the mats and spewed. ‘Is he alright?’ Zoe asked. ‘It happens.’ To white belts … In the lapse before Dom stepped up, I caught a wave from the door. A woman with a clipboard and mic smiled, her camera crew setting up behind her. Oh hell! Jen Bradshaw, from LA-Live. The interview was today! I bowed off the mats and had a quick chat, camera rolling. She fired questions and filmed the rest of the workout. I gave her Zoe for the wrap-up. Nothing like a fresh face, full of enthusiasm to put shine in the story. Jen followed us back into the locker room where she and Zoe chattered non- stop. The two couldn’t seem to can the excitement, which was actually pretty cool. ‘Ava! That was amazing!’ Zoe said after the news team left. Her face was flushed, her eyes shining, blonde hair limp with sweat. ‘I can’t believe how good that class felt.’ She took a big swig from her water bottle and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘You were amazing! Wow. I had no idea I’d like this so much. It’s … it’s …’ ‘Empowering?’ ‘Hell, yes!’ I nodded. ‘You’re hooked.’ ‘I can’t wait to tell Tom.’ I knew I shouldn’t ask. It was none of my business, but the words were out before I could stop them. ‘How’s that going, you and Tom?’ We still hadn’t talked since the other night and I missed my friend. She beamed. ‘He’s wonderful.’ ‘Yeah. He is.’ ‘Tom’s been so into “us” lately, you know?’ She didn’t wait for a response. ‘We’re going out tonight, sort of an early double birthday celebration.’ ‘When’s yours?’ ‘I’m June twenty-third and he’s the —’ ‘Twenty-ninth,’ I said without thinking. ‘Amazing, isn’t it.’ I was about to say, one in twelve people had the same sun sign, but didn’t. ‘Where’s he taking you?’ ‘Poseidon!’ ‘Wow.’ I couldn’t believe Tom wanted to go there. He wasn’t the clubbing type, or at least, he wasn’t when we were dating. But then, when we were together, it was sex, study, sex, class, sex, food, repeat. I don’t think we ever went out. Maybe he’d been holding back on the nightlife, for my benefit. Working as a bouncer took a bit of the glamour out of clubbing; he knew I wasn’t into it. Still, Tom’s idea of a ‘best date ever’ was a home cooked dinner, NetCinema and me. At least that’s what he’d said. I conjured a smile out of thin air. ‘I hope you have fun. You deserve it.’ That wasn’t a lie. Zoe’d worked her butt off in class and for all her perky sparkle, there was potential there. ‘Do you have a lift?’ ‘Tom’s picking me up. We can —’ ‘I’m walking, thanks.’ I gripped her shoulder. ‘Good training, Zoe, and thanks for doing the interview. A new student perspective will add appeal.’ I closed my locker and headed for the door. ‘See you next class. Schedule’s on the desk.’ She gave me a hug and left. I hung around until Rourke came out of the toilets. ‘You okay?’ Because you don’t look it. Rourke’s skin was pale and sweaty. ‘Stomach bug. I’ll be fine.’ ‘So what happened with the perp? We get a line on the copycat? DA make a deal?’ I knew by his face the answer wasn’t good. ‘He walked.’ My hands went up. ‘No way! It was broad daylight. Witnesses. I’ve the bruises!’ ‘Seems he wasn’t read his rights.’ ‘Wrong!’ I shouted. ‘Calm down, Ava.’ Rourke didn’t look happy about the situation either. ‘Some hot-shot lawyer got him off on false arrest. No priors. We couldn’t hold him.’ ‘This is bullshit.’ I looked around for something to kick. ‘I agree. But nothing we can do now.’ I pinched the bridge of my nose. ‘We have to catch these guys, before anyone else is killed.’ ‘Just keep doing what you’re doing. We’re getting close.’ ‘Right. I’m walking home.’ Rourke pulled out his phone. I didn’t hang around to watch, but I knew he was sending my tail after me, on foot. I hoped our perp would take the bait.

* * *

I had a lot to chew on, what with the emotionally bi-polar day. Maybe the late afternoon walk home, with droning traffic and rhythmic pace, would calm me down. I can’t believe those guys got away. I waited for the pedestrian light to turn from green to green. The city didn’t cater for the colour blind. Was it too hard to consider almost a tenth of the people in the world? I crossed with a horde of office workers, and set out toward home. After six blocks, the sun was low on the horizon and I was halfway there. I’d processed my way to the fact that I could breathe underwater. I hadn’t even gotten to the Teern part. It wasn’t lost on me that Daniel Bane, a Shen Mar according to Rossi, was wooing me. It was so strange. When I was near him, I trusted him completely, but the longer I was out of his space, the more I wanted to speculate. Trouble was, nothing really stuck. I pressed my hands to my temples trying to force logic back into my brain. I rolled my shoulders and spun around. What was that? I listened for a moment. Nothing. The setting sun cast long-fingered shadows. Traffic turned bumper-to- bumper. Hello, rush hour, which should be renamed crawl hour. If I cut across a few alleyways, I’d be in my kitchen, cooking up organic pad Thai in no time. The thought lit me up, so I stopped at the Asian grocery store and stocked up, grabbing rice noodles, tofu, bok choy, fish sauce, bean sprouts, chilli, garlic and a small portion of organic, free- range chicken. Damn, it was expensive, but non-organic wasn’t safe and non- free-range was horrid. I left the store, toting my bag full of gym gear and food. I strode down the streets, acting as if I didn’t have a care in the world. But I did have one. A big one. Along with the scent of gas and fumes and garbage and cat piss, and some incredibly awesome bakery breads from the next street over, came the hint of predation. I was being followed. The face of the copycat came to mind and I shuddered before drawing in another breath, slowly filtering out the scents. Among the eclectic mix of molecules, I caught the scent of the sea. Not a crazy occurrence, when the wind was onshore, but it wasn’t today. I kept breathing it in, refining and teasing out the notes that formed the score of the aroma. Yeah, smells were like songs. Really. In this one, there was brine, fresh and brackish water, kelp, fish — a lot of fish — and the sweet hint of emotions. Strong ones. Joy, or maybe enthusiasm. Lust? Whoever was out there enjoyed tracking me. If it’s my tail, gotta say they love their work. They were good at it too. I couldn’t spot them, save by the scent. I listened harder. The world amplified around me in the most dizzying way. It wasn’t noisy or overwhelming; more riveting, like listening to a symphony and being able to distinguish every sound wave from tuba to piccolo, bass drum to cornet. Rephrasing that, it wasn’t as melodic as a symphony. I heard car horns, road rage, toilets flushing, couples fighting, trash tipping, drug deals going down, but also old ladies selling flowers to lovely young men and dogs chasing Frisbees in the nearby park. Who knew dogs sounded so damn happy? After a few minutes of nothing, in terms of the stalker-type person, I gave up. Probably my LAPD tail, anyway. The sun melted away, replaced by the glare of streetlights. I walked toward a big glass window, the storefront of the local 7-Eleven. The building was plastered with posters, ads and flashing lights, but the doors were clean, reflective as a mirror in this light. When a man exited, the door swung my way and in its reflection I saw someone climbing the fence behind me. I turned down a side street and leapt over a row of garbage bins. Hopefully, my tail was snapping photos about now, gaining enough evidence for a positive ID, and an arrest if he slipped away again. The stalker walked right on by, long bare legs and all. Holy shit! She was a woman, a foot taller than me, and not wearing a hell of a lot. Salila! My dive buddy. Rossi’s something-or-other. She was dressed in cutoff jeans and a neon, road worker’s vest. Where the hell did she find that? More to the point, what was she doing following me? I set down my gym bag and, on a wave of adrenaline, I sprang. It took her completely by surprise, which startled me even more. I landed on her back, slammed my arm under her throat and squeezed the chokehold, hard. The next thing I knew, she threw me over her shoulder and I was flat on the ground, staring up at the smog covered evening sky and yellow streetlights. ‘You want to tumble with me, skinny fish?’ Her pointy canine teeth were showing very clearly. I answered by springing to my feet, taking a deep stance and cutting loose a roundhouse kick aimed at her smartass mouth. She was in the air before I had a chance to connect, somersaulting high over my head. Salila landed behind me and slammed me back to the ground. ‘Tag. You’re it.’ She cackled witchy laughter. ‘Is that what you still say, or have I been gone too long?’ I didn’t dignify her with an answer. Actually, I didn’t have the breath to choke one out. I was all kinds of winded, and all kinds of pissed off. ‘You bitch. You’re on my turf now.’ ‘That’ll matter?’ She dove on me before the words were out. Apparently not. We scrapped in the alley, knocking over garbage cans and smashing into walls. I threw her into a window, shattering it. She shook it off and pounded me into the pavement with her nearest weapon. I think it was a trashcan lid. My ears were ringing after that. Dogs barked. People yelled, ‘Shut up out there!’ and threatened to call the police. That got my attention. I could see Rourke’s face now. Hey, detective. Meet Salila. She’s not human, and oh yeah, neither am I. You don’t mind if we bash the crap out of each other, do you? Family quarrel. That would go real smooth … not. This had to stop! Was the tail capturing us on film? The man with the camera? He’s taking a nap. Great. I made the sign of a ‘T’ with both hands and shouted, ‘Time out!’ She clocked me with an uppercut. It sent me flying into a pile of junk. Damn, it hurt. It took me a while to pull myself upright. ‘What the hell, Salila? I said time out.’ I did the ‘T’ sign with my hands again. It was universal, right? Maybe not. She was coming at me, a pipe in her hand. ‘Salila, stop! The cops will come.’ Like I care? ‘You will, I promise. They’ll lock us both up and then what? I hear you don’t fare too well on land, without a regular dose of blood.’ I’ll have you to drink on, sweetcakes. She kept coming. ‘You think?’ I shifted my weight to my back leg and brought my fists up to guard my face. ‘Ever heard of solitary confinement?’ That checked her pace. Solitary what? ‘Just like it sounds. You, all by yourself in a sunny, east-facing cell. You may be strong, Salila, but you can’t chew through iron bars, can you?’ ‘Maybe.’ Her brow wrinkled. She showed me her canines. ‘What do you think?’ Her voice, spoken aloud, was beautiful. Lilting. Beguiling. But when she used her thoughts only, I saw into her deeper side, a flash of memory perhaps. It looked like a cell, cold bars, a jailer. Then a whole lot of blood and gore. Behind it all was the booming voice of Teern, and holy massacre, was he pissed off. Her approach was tentative now. I sidestepped around, keeping distance between us. ‘He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?’ I do what I like. ‘I see that.’ I swallowed my fear and stepped up to the Mar woman. ‘You might want to have a rethink.’ She gave me a mischievous grin and tossed the pipe. ‘I have. You can take me to your home.’ ‘What? Why?’ So I can see how you live. After all, if you’re going to be involved with my brother, I have a right to know. Brother? My brow crunched at that. ‘I’m not involved with anyone at the moment.’ Don’t tell him that. He’ll go into one of his century-long broods. ‘Who the hell’s your brother?’ Don’t be dense, please. I couldn’t stand it if you were an imbecile. ‘Rossi’s your brother?’ Technically no, but we rose from the same bed. You what? I shot the question straight to her mind. Oh good, darling. I was afraid you couldn’t hear well, let alone speak. We can’t expect too much though, being half-blood, can we? Still, this is a relief. She took my arm. ‘Show me your place, there’s a lass.’ Let’s see how the human side lives. What could I do? I jerked my arm back, but couldn’t resist the urge to reach up and pull a few splinters of glass from her cheek. ‘You didn’t kill him, the police officer that was following me?’ ‘Of course not. Like Rossi, I’m just here to observe.’ I rubbed my bruised head. ‘Sure you are.’ If the stalker did show up, Salila could have him for dinner. I surrendered, picked up my gym bag and led her home.

* * *

‘What do you mean, he’s busy?’ ‘It’s an emergency ward. It tends —’ ‘Page him again. Please.’ The nurse hung up on me. ‘Bastard!’ Okay, I knew there was ‘doctor’ in front of Rossi’s name, but after an hour of Salila poking through my things and name-dropping people who — judging by their titles — lived centuries ago, while stalking Mrs Beal’s cat, and threatening to eat my entire building, I needed backup, quick. I let Snick out and tapped redial. It wasn’t the architecture making her lick her chops. ‘I need Dr Miguel Rossi, please.’ ‘He’s in the ER, as I explained.’ Great. They recognised my voice now. ‘I have your number, Ms Sykes. Dr Rossi, or his nurse practitioner, will return the call ASAP.’ The attendants on the ER nursing station were getting frostier every time I rang. Where was the compassion? ‘If you have a serious problem, of an emergency nature, please contact your regular healthcare professional, or come down to the hospital, or perhaps choose a different one.’ ‘Fine.’ I hung up. Sweat beaded my brow and my heart pumped hard. Poor dude on the other end of the line. He probably had enough going on without dealing with what would have sounded like a crazed girlfriend. Miguel likes a challenge. Salila was digging in my closet, trying on clothes. She’d found a G-string that fit, but my bras were a joke. ‘Is this right?’ She was talking at the mirror as she tried to strap on my lucky sky-blue bra. I pulled it out of her hand. ‘You’re what’s known as a C cup. In other words, stacked. I’m not. You can’t expect everything of mine to fit you.’ Don’t know how you stand clothes at all. She opened another drawer and pulled out my spare, newly washed and folded black gi. Oh, what’s this for? I ripped it out of her hands. ‘You can’t wear this.’ She started pulling on the drawstring pants. Why not? ‘Because I said no!’ I tried to stop her but she pushed me into the closet. Great. Now we’re going to fight again, and trash my apartment? If you want. She smiled, stepping into my gi pants. Both our heads turned around at the knock on the door. My eyes went wide. ‘Rossi?’ But no. He didn’t have a keycard for the front. Someone else. Her canines showed. Take it easy. ‘And put a shirt on, Salila.’ I chucked her a bright-blue halter-top. I love it. The hues remind me of nematodes, the ones further north, near San Francisco Bay. The excitement at the door seemed forgotten. ‘If you have something to say, speak aloud,’ I hissed under my breath. ‘I’ll see who it is.’ It had to be one of two people, unless a neighbour was checking in. Or the landlord. Please don’t be the landlord. I reached the door and knew immediately who stood on the other side. ‘Tom?’ I opened it fast. ‘Ava, you didn’t answer your phone. I had to ring Cate to find out you were here.’ ‘I lost it.’ In more ways than one. I tipped my head to the side. ‘Got a burner.’ ‘You should have let me know. I wanted to apologise.’ His gaze slid away along with whatever he was going to say. ‘Ooh la la.’ Salila came out of my bedroom and swaggered up to us. Who is this hunky treat? ‘Hey!’ I grabbed her arm and pulled her back into my room. Put some freaking clothes on. She’d kept the drawstring pants, but had abandoned the top. Only if I can wear this. She pouted, and picked up my jujitsu top. ‘Alright. Just speak out loud.’ And be nice. I returned to Tom in time to see a stream of emotions cross his face. He passed curiosity, landed on lust and stayed there. I waved my hands in front of his eyes, trying to get his attention. So much for his apology. Stupid men. ‘It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.’ Of course that wasn’t true. He’d never seen a Mar, not a full-blooded one, anyway. He wasn’t blinking. ‘Hey!’ I punched him in the arm. ‘Who is she?’ ‘Dr Rossi’s sister.’ I crossed my arms. ‘She’s, um, Scandinavian. You know how they are, about clothes and such.’ He licked his lips. ‘What’s she doing here?’ ‘Driving me crazy.’ I led him into the kitchen and pushed him into a chair. ‘You came by for a reason?’ ‘To say I miss you. Can we put the other night behind us?’ ‘Yeah. I want that too.’ ‘And …’ It took him a minute to remember what the hell else he came for. ‘It’s about my girlfriend.’ ‘Her name’s Zoe.’ I couldn’t believe the guy needed prompting. Salila padded into the kitchen in my gi. The front was left open, the drawstring pants tied low on her hips, a real conversation stopper. ‘It’s a good fit?’ Salila asked him. Tom was nodding, like an idiot. Intellectually impaired, I corrected myself. ‘No, Salila, it’s not. The legs and sleeves are too short.’ You’re supposed to act like a human, remember? I’m trying. Try harder. She shrugged, slipping off the top and undoing the drawstring. ‘I’ll change. Won’t be a minute.’ Tom drooled on my kitchen table. I wanted to hit him. Finally, he wiped his mouth and looked at me. It took a moment for him to focus on my face. ‘What happened to you?’ My hand went to my forehead. I hadn’t had a chance to check in the mirror. No doubt I was a bit knocked around from the spat with Salila. ‘Sparring.’ ‘You okay?’ ‘Do you care?’ Salila returned before he could answer. She was in short cutoffs again, and my blue halter-top. Her hair was nearly dry. It rippled all around her. Whatever damage I’d inflicted didn’t show. Salila pulled out a chair like it was a foreign object and sat. Somehow, no matter how unfamiliar her surroundings, she managed to look sexy, and elegant. Her hand went straight to Tom’s shoulder. She palpated all the way down his arm, like feeling a prized bull. Not human behaviour, Salila. He likes it. Doesn’t matter. You have to stop. I was going to say, or he’ll jump your bones, but I guessed she’d do him right here on the table whether I left the room or not. Just stop, Salila. Please? She slid her hand off of his and started toying with the salt shaker. Are you ADHD? I knew what was coming next so I stood up and swiped it out of her hand. ‘Who wants a drink of water?’ I poured three without listening to the responses, and put a shake of sea salt in mine, double in hers. ‘Is there ice? I so love ice. It reminds me of the Arctic, or the Tasman Sea.’ Her eyes were still on my ex. ‘Have you been?’ Tom gurgled laughter. I pulled the tray out of the freezer and plunked a few cubes in each. ‘Tom.’ I clapped to get his attention. ‘You were going to say why you dropped in?’ He looked up at me and shook his head. ‘I was coming back from the hospital.’ He turned to Salila. ‘Work experience. I’m third year pre-med. We spend some time in the lab this term.’ ‘She doesn’t care,’ I interrupted. ‘Go on. You’re here because?’ Salila, being a contrary bitch, was hanging on his words. ‘Oh, please tell me more, Thomas. This is so fascinating.’ Thomas? ‘I was nearby,’ he said, still looking at Salila, ‘and I couldn’t reach Ava on the phone.’ ‘And?’ I tapped my foot. Finally he tore his eyes off Salila. ‘I wanted to say thanks, for looking after, um …’ ‘Zoe?’ ‘Yeah, Zoe. At training. It’s rough there. I didn’t know how she’d handle it.’ ‘I didn’t do anything.’ ‘She texted to say you did, and after, well, the other night, I wanted to thank you face to face. Make sure we were okay.’ I shrugged. ‘You’re welcome.’ I’m bored. Seriously, Salila? Was she twelve? And, hungry. Salila’s hand was headed for Tom’s chest. ‘No!’ I jumped up. ‘Tom, you’re going to be late.’ I pulled him out of his chair and away from the six foot tall, sexy, animalistic Mar woman. ‘For what?’ ‘Your date with Zoe, remember?’ Salila grabbed his other arm. ‘Don’t go yet.’ Tom was out of my grip and leaning toward her like the tower of Pisa. My com buzzed and I pushed the panel button to answer it. ‘What?’ My voice might have been an octave higher than usual. ‘It’s Miguel. I got your messages.’ ‘Hurry.’ I buzzed him in and went back to the kitchen. Salila let loose a low, menacing growl in her throat. Tom didn’t seem to notice. ‘Tom!’ I slapped his face. ‘Snap out of it!’ And you, Salila, don’t you dare touch him again. I’ll be right back. I ran to the door and threw it open. ‘Finally!’ Rossi wore surgery greens and a hassled expression. ‘Ava, just to note. One phone message, in the future, will suffice.’ He must have sensed that whiff of the sea that clung to Mar, because he shoved me aside and stormed into the kitchen. Come on in then. I ran to catch up. ‘Salila!’ His voice was demon deep. It rumbled in my chest and raised the hairs on my arms. Oh, shit. Tom was slammed back against the sink, Salila clinging to him, one long bare leg hiked up and wrapped around his waist, her lips on his mouth, his hands on her bottom. ‘Tom!’ I shouted, my voice coming out surprisingly strong as well. He ignored me completely. Rossi grabbed Salila around the middle and dropped her none too gently into a chair. ‘Stay!’ He turned back to Tom, who looked like a man just awakened from a dream, held his face and turned his chin from side to side. There was a tiny puncture hole on his neck, dripping drops of blood. Rossi froze for a moment, staring at it. Great. Now he’s hungry too? ‘What’s with you people?’ I pushed Rossi hard in the chest. It was like trying to shove a brick wall, so I dragged Tom away. ‘Can we not be in some kind of feeding frenzy right now?’ I led Tom to the bathroom, cleaned the wound and slapped a gauze square on his neck. ‘Hold it there.’ Tom did as he was told. I must have had a drop of his blood on my finger because when I tore the surgical tape off the roll, using my teeth, I was knocked back with a flash, straight out of Tom’s head. I could see through his eyes, the events of a moment before, hearing what he heard, feeling what he felt. Salila was hot and heavy in his face but he was calm, wrapped in a warm sense of safety. Familiarity, and excitement. Even with her freaky pointed teeth heading for his neck. Weird. It reminded me of … ‘Ava?’ I shook it off, storing the vision for later. ‘You’re going home, Tom.’ I dragged him to the door, avoiding the two arguing Mar in my kitchen. ‘You have a date with Zoe.’ I didn’t let go of his hand until we reached his Tesla. He fumbled the keys. I took over, opened the door and pushed him into the driver’s seat. I put the keys into the ignition and slammed the door shut. He lowered the window. ‘Ava?’ ‘Look at me, Tom. Nothing happened here.’ ‘I think something did.’ He touched the bandage on his neck. ‘I just don’t know what.’ ‘Let it go, Tom.’ He sobered, nodding. Then I added, ‘It’s good Zoe’s into training. She has potential.’ He looked me straight in the eyes. ‘I’m glad we’re okay.’ ‘Me too.’ He waved out the window and drove away. I turned around and went back in. I still had the Mar to deal with. Mrs Beal opened her door as I passed it. ‘Ava! What’s all the racket?’ ‘Rehearsing lines,’ I said without a second thought. ‘For a charity play. Raising money for the CDC. Sorry. We’ll tone it down.’ ‘I hope so.’ She had Snick pinned tight against her chest. The little ginger cat was squirming, claws coming out. ‘There’s been too much drama already.’ Part of me wanted to question her. Did she mean the drama of my attack and the ambulance arriving, or of Rourke’s men doing drive-bys, or something else I didn’t know about? As I started to ask, glass shattered. Beal’s eyes widened. ‘What kind of play is it?’ ‘A Fish Tank Called Desire. It’s avant-garde.’ I gave her a fake smile. Snick fluffed up his fur, claws extending as Rossi and Salila came out my door and headed toward us. Mrs Beal dropped the hissing cat. Rossi gave my neighbour a heartwarming smile then turned his eyes to me. ‘Sorry, Ava. I’m taking her home.’ Salila pulled out of his grip and led the way. ‘Ta ta,’ she said, as if nothing was wrong. I paused at my door before going inside. Snick, brave now that they had left, twined around my leg. I reached down and scratched his stripy gold cheeks. ‘Let’s see what they’ve done to the kitchen, shall we?’ It sure as hell better not involve my blender. Snick looked up at me with golden eyes, pupils down to thin black slits. There was a drop of drool on his chin. ‘That’d be right. You’re hungry too. Come on. There’s something in the cupboard for you.’ The groceries were still in my gym bag, hopefully not smashed to soup. If I cooked the meat straight away, it would be alright. I spent the next few hours cleaning broken glass off the kitchen floor, making pad Thai and staring into space, trying to call Cate. I wanted to tell her the truth. She might think me crazy, with talk of the sea and Mar and my more than human father, but she was my best friend. I had to, no, wanted to tell her. Somehow, by doing that, I might be able to accept it myself. No luck though. She hadn’t called back, or answered my string of messages. It reminded me of Rossi saying, ‘One message would suffice.’ I wondered briefly if he threw his blood- hungry ‘sister’ back into the sea. How much am I like her? With eyes closed, I imagined that underwater world, reliving my experiences there. Yeah, I felt drawn, but it made my temples sweat. I opened my embryology notes and studied slides. After midnight, I went to bed, still thinking of Cate. Tomorrow I would track her down, and we’d have a good long talk. CHAPTER TWENTY

I jolted awake, the digital clock reading something a.m. Couldn’t see. Contacts out. Alarm? For a second, I thought it was a dream, but the buzzing continued. I got up, and went to push the com. ‘Who is it?’ ‘Ava. Let me in!’ Male voice. Urgent. Drunk. Joey. Damn. What could he want? I buzzed him into the building. While he made his way down the hall, I popped a new packet of contacts and put them in. Before I was finished he pounded on the door. I’m sure everyone on the block heard. I threw the bolt and opened it. ‘What the fuck, Joey?’ He staggered in, reeking of stale booze, chemicals and fear. He stumbled to his knees. ‘Jeez, Joey.’ I closed the door and locked it before dropping to his level. His face was raw and red, and had a few days’ regrowth. He really didn’t smell good. ‘What happened?’ Joey wrapped his arms around himself. ‘It’s Cate.’ I gripped his shoulder to stop the rocking. ‘What about her?’ He went to the next level of his catharsis. I pulled him to his feet and slapped his face. ‘Man up and tell me what happened. Where’s Cate?’ Big mistake. He went berserk, flailing his fists around, bellowing curses. It was a full psychotic episode. I ducked a wild right hook, closed the distance and took him down. His face pressed to the floor as I growled in his ear. ‘You need to calm down, Joey. Right now. And you need to tell me what happened to Cate.’ He started to relax, but didn’t answer. Sirens whined far away. Mrs Beal would have called the cops. It probably sounded like we were killing each other in here. I had to do something, before they arrived. ‘Tell me, nice and slow, Joey. What about Cate?’ He couldn’t move his body, pinned like I had him, but his face was another matter. He scrubbed it back and forth over my carpet while gibbering. Oh, hell. I bent to his ear. ‘Tell me.’ He whimpered, incoherent. The artery in his neck pulsed, and I stared at it. Rossi’s voice came back to me. The Shen Mar take human blood. From it, they pull the memories of their victims. It had worked with Rossi’s blood. With Tom’s. I took a second to acknowledge what I was thinking, and a few more to muster the courage. Pushing through the urge to puke, I whispered, ‘Last chance, Joey. Tell me what happened to Cate, or we find out the hard way.’ He started sobbing. Sirens grew closer. ‘Time’s up.’ Let’s see what you remember then. I nearly gagged on the stink rising off him. Bile burned the back of my throat. I swallowed hard and bit his freaking neck. He yelped, and his skin tore like paper. How much would it take? A drop? Believe me, I didn’t want any more than that. Blood touched my tongue. The shock of it, the astringent sting and copper base, threw my head back. I sat astride him, rolling the fluid around in my mouth, my hands still pressing Joey into the floor. No way was he escaping while the blood flashed images into my mind. They hit like a truck, colours exploding behind my eyes. Red, orange, purple and a blazing vivid green. Damn, it was intense. Light flared like a match strike, then blurred. I recognised Poseidon. Music pounded, the walls vibrated. I was on a packed dance floor, strobes flashing. My eyes shut involuntarily, but that didn’t stop the show. Then the music was muffled. Fog rolled in. Chains were dragging across the slick floor. It was wet, slippery with dark fluids. Moans and whimpers floated around my head. ‘Cate!’ She was there. A man clamped her with manacles and pinned her to the wall. Dark figures in fine clothes stood around her, passing a goblet, each taking a drink. When it was empty, they refilled it from Cate’s wrist. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. ‘Cate!’ I let go of Joey, stood up and puked the blood out of my mouth. Daniel Bane’s words came back to me, taunting now instead of reassuring. ‘I’ll look after Cate.’ He’d convinced me VIP was a floorshow, drug-free and completely safe. All lies? Heat rose to my head, and Joey sprang. I slammed him with an uppercut, knocking the daylights out of him. He hit the floor as blue siren lights whirled outside the building. How long would it take for someone to let them in? I did need a squad car full of cops, but what were the chances they’d storm Poseidon based on my sampling of Joey’s blood? They’d lock me up and throw away the key, at least until morning. I grabbed my phone and tapped Rourke’s number. He could help. ‘I’m sorry. The phone you are trying to reach is switched off or out of service. Please wait for the tone to leave a message.’ ‘It’s Ava. Call me!’ Damn it. I couldn’t let these cops delay me, and without Rourke to give me a hall pass, they would. Hang on, Cate. I’m coming. I pocketed my phone and tied my hair in a quick ponytail. There was no plan. No backup. Just a tidal wave of adrenaline, and not enough time. I grabbed my gun, extra ammo and combat knife, strapping the sheath to my thigh. I shouldered my pack and slipped into the hall. The cops would be out of their car by now, so I ran the other way, to the fire escape in the back of the building, then out into the night. It was a short sprint across the neighbouring lot and down the next street over. My only thought was to storm Poseidon, and bring Cate out alive.

* * *

The glare of the streetlights dimmed. The sky paled. I was still running, the blocks flying by. I reached South Broadway and hung a left. Not like I had a bus schedule in my pocket. It felt like Cate’s life was slipping away. Do something! I scanned the cars lining the street until I spotted a Cortina a block ahead. It was the first car I’d learnt to drive, courtesy of Isaac, Betty Smathers’ son. He’d also taught me how to start a car without a key. That was about to come in handy. I slammed to a halt, breathing like a bellows. The Cortina was a 1982 model, good condition, by the look of the exterior. Old enough to not have a car alarm. Without a second thought, I gloved my hand in my hoodie, smashed it through the driver’s side window, upped the lock and opened the door. A dog barked, but other than that, the street stayed quiet. ‘Don’t worry, little car. From here on, there won’t be another scratch.’ I got into the driver’s seat, brushing glass away. What I needed was a flat head screwdriver and a high speed drill. My knife would have to do. There wasn’t time to knock on doors, asking to borrow tools. I positioned the tip of the knife two-thirds the way up from the keyhole, steadied it with my left hand and slammed it home with the heel of my right. I pounded until the blade was deep enough to take out all the lock pins. Then I jammed the knife in the ignition and turned. The little darling fired straight up. ‘Okay, maybe a bit more of a scratch, but that’s it.’ I revved the engine and dropped the clutch. Yeah, I jacked the car. Not proud of it, but if the blood vision was right, my friend’s life was at stake. Or she was dead. Both possibilities made me crazy. The Cortina lurched toward the sparse traffic, jolted and slammed to a halt. Stalled. I rubbed the whiplash out of my neck. It had been a while since I’d been behind the wheel. I twisted the knife again. She started straight back up. Good girl. The nearest house lit up. A screen door slammed. Uh oh. A guy with a baseball bat ran toward me. This time, I revved, eased out the clutch and took off down the street, a little jerky, but I managed to grind through the gears. ‘Sorry,’ I said, over my shoulder. The sun cracked the horizon, blinding me. I flew down the deserted streets, keeping to the top end of the speed limit. A cop on my ass, while driving a stolen car, was not going to make my future any prettier. Or Cate’s, if I didn’t find her in time. No sign of a green Subaru. I fished out the phone and tapped Rourke again. Message service. ‘Rourke, if you get this, I’m at Poseidon. The floorshow’s real. They’ve got Cate.’ When I reached the intersection a block from the club, I sped down the street, swerved in front of a milk truck and slammed to a halt parallel to those tall black doors. A second later, they cracked open, one security guard stuck his head out. That was my cue. I unclipped my safety belt and jammed the gears into reverse. In full kamikaze mode, I twisted around and revved again, hit the pedal and flew backward toward the other side of the street. The Cortina’s engine screamed, RPMs maxed. The car bumped over the centre strip and into the unsuspecting storefront opposite Poseidon. Glass fell and metal screeched. It must have been a stationery store, judging by the amount of paper confetti flying around. As it rained on the car, I sucked in some deep breaths, psyching up for my next move. Rossi! Not sure why he came so vividly to mind, but I pulled out my phone and punched through a text. In case I never came out, might help to let the Mar half know where I’d gone. Poseidon has Cate. I’m getting her out. He must have been watching the sun rise because he answered straight back. Wait. This is over your head. Going in now. The phone rang and I switched it off, tossing it in the back seat. Before the debris settled, I floored it, jamming the stick shift into second. Yeah, it was going to be a spin start. The black doors opened a little wider. Two heads peeked out this time. I couldn’t see their expressions from here. Didn’t care. I razzed the RPMs, feathering the accelerator, then tucked my chin to my chest and dropped the clutch. With eyes shut and pedal to the metal, the car spun, then rocketed off the kerb, across three lanes, and over the centre strip. The tyres barely touched down before I screamed past the lanes flowing the opposite way. The odometer clocked fifty mph when I clipped the far kerb and catapulted straight into Poseidon. My vision blazed like a supernova. An earsplitting crack ripped through the air as I hit the doors, then all sound dropped to a rumble. Time slowed. I was suspended, unable to feel my foot on the accelerator or my hands clamping the wheel. Blood rushed in my ears, my heart pounding a single beat. The two security guards, moving in slo-mo, jumped away from the doors, aimed guns at my head and fired. I wasn’t the only one in kamikaze mode. Bullets riddled the windshield before the car slammed both men. Their guns spiralled away, and the guards crumpled under the chassis. The brick wall either side fractured, spraying in every direction. Sounds fell like an avalanche, punctuated by shattering glass and splintering wood. The Cortina’s airborne wheels zinged. The windshield shattered, fragments spitting everywhere. The foyer air hit my face. I sucked in a breath. Get out! Out! Out! I kicked open the driver’s door and launched past the flying rubble. Everything hung in unreal time, except for me. I accelerated through the air like a missile. Instantly the world rushed back, full speed. My hands covered my head. Land on your feet! No such luck. I hit the ground on my side, stopping the forward motion with my head as I skidded toward the wall. White light flared. I welcomed it, the pain snapping me into focus. The plan was simple. Find Cate. Get her out. The car collided with the back wall, flames bursting to life around it. Hot air burned my eyes. Holy hell. I’d taken out the entire entrance, letting the rising sunlight blaze in. I stood, shook myself and walked over the rubble to the elevator. When I reached it, the bell chimed and the doors slid open. Crap. Four off-duty security guards, mid- conversation, froze. They must have been heading home. No earphones. Bags over their shoulders. Shades on. Mar, every one of them, I guessed. It took them a moment to comprehend the hole in the wall, and the burning car. Slowly, their eyes turned to me. ‘Hey, guys.’ They dropped their bags and attacked. I darted back to the centre of the foyer. The Poseidon boys spread out, staying in the shadows. In the back of my mind, I heard Rossi’s voice as he argued with Teern. She’s stronger than us by day. Time to put that theory to the test. I charged at the guy closest to the light, doing a handless cartwheel and landing half a foot from his face. Before he could react, I grabbed his shirt and headbutted him, cracking his shades in half. As they fell apart, I slammed him with an elbow to the eye socket. He staggered back, into the beams of daylight and fell on his ass. I leapt and pounded him into the ground while the others swept in. The guy beneath me was putty, so I jumped up to face the next. He was ready, punching me rapid- fire. I blocked, backing toward the burning car. No way was I letting him fry me like a piece of bacon. On his next punch, I dropped, spinning my leg around in a full sweep. My boot clipped his ankle. He went over backward and I followed him down, hammer fisting his head into the concrete. He wasn’t getting up. ‘Bane isn’t going to forgive and forget this time.’ Jason and my old buddy Raphael were on me. ‘Who says I’m giving him the chance?’ They laughed and grabbed my arms. I rose like a jack-in-the-box, wrenching my left arm free and slamming it into Jason’s jaw. As he fell, I used his shoulder as a pivot point and did a nose dive, letting my left leg fly up. My heel clocked Raphael in the face, but that didn’t slow the big guy down. ‘You’re dead, Sykes.’ A low growl rose up in my throat. I snapped back to land on my feet. Jason was up and coming at me, Raph right with him. I tucked into a backward roll to stand in the midst of the beaming sunrise. I don’t have time for this. Warmed on one side by the sun, and the other by the incinerating car, I pulled my gun. They hesitated. Jason tapped his ear, as if to speak into his headset, but he wasn’t wearing one. I aimed past him at the Cortina’s petrol tank and fired two quick shots. It exploded, flames jumping to the ceiling, shrapnel flying. Jason went down burning. Raphael ran up the side of the wall. I aimed at him but he was already dropping down on me. My knees buckled. Pain shot up my legs as I hit the concrete slab. He pinned me down, grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head to the side. ‘You know what we’re going to do, Ava?’ He licked my cheek as his thoughts penetrated my mind. We’re going to fuck you before we drink your blood so the whole crew can relive your pain, over and over. I don’t think so. My gun was pressed into his heart and I squeezed the trigger, firing three times. His body was a silencer, deadening the sound, the kick slammed my spine into the rubble. I pushed him off and struggled to my feet. The elevator door was still open. I walked in, took a breath and pressed VIP.

* * * I had a minute to cool down. This ride is what started the nightmare in the first place. I pulled out the second clip and popped it into my pistol. An image of Cate flashed into my mind, her body chained to the wall, eyes rolled up into the back of her head. Don’t let it be too late. I tried to steady myself with slow deep breaths. It didn’t do jackshit. With my other hand, I grabbed my knife from its sheath. They might not sense me coming, if I watched the mental broadcasting. My thoughts had been spinning off in every direction. Could others read them? Could I read theirs? I shut my eyes and saw Cate again. A new surge of adrenaline shot through me. I was ready to tear the building apart to find my friend. It felt out of control. Too chaotic. Unschooled. I couldn’t do a thing about it. Blood pumped through me like lava under pressure. Hyped to the max. Maybe I’d gotten a hit of whatever Joey was on when I tasted his blood. Maybe not. I was only a hair this side of crazy. I knew it, and I was going to make it work for me. As the elevator passed club level, I shut down my mind, containing thoughts into a tight, whirling ball of light. Then I opened a window outward, a one-way conduit, reaching toward every active mind in the building. Words, fragments, ideas flashed, hitting me like a semi- automatic. Too much! I tried to dial it back, filter. Nothing worked. The thoughts raced by, a million miles per second. I stood in the middle, eye of the hurricane, until my whole body shook. I had images alright. Dead bodies, torture, wicked evil. Cate chained to the wall. Heat rose. The pressure slammed my head. I sucked in a breath and screamed, punching my fist into the wall. The metal warped, leaving a pocket in the smooth surface. I tried to control the hyperventilating. The elevator hit the bottom floor and I crouched, ready to blast my way to Cate. Slowly, the doors opened. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. The lights were dim, the air smoky blue, aromas sickly sweet. Bubbles rose from the giant aquarium, rushing up in force but vanishing before they reached the surface. The giant eels gaped at the mouth of a cave. Rays hovered over the sandy bottom like stalled cars. Sharks circled. I picked up the scents of violence, sex, lust, blood and a hint of remnant longing, but all that was coated in a glutted stupor, a lethargy smothering the room. I stepped out of the elevator. No heads turned as the doors closed behind me. The music sounded ethereal with a techno beat, like rain pounding on a tin roof, or the sea crashing into a wall. I glanced at the tank. What was that, buoyed up in the bubbles? A boot? Foot? A flash of silver swept by, rolled and engulfed it before I could be sure. The strobe lights blinked on the empty stage where two workers in grey jumpsuits packed up. There were a dozen people lounging around the dance floor, reclining on couches or sitting at tables lit with glowing oil dishes. The soft light made caricatures of their faces, eyes nearly closed, mouths slack. The walls amplified their profiles to giant, monstrous shadows. A few couples, some same sex, some opposite, leaned against each other, shuffling in the centre of the room, slow-dancing to the ambient drone. The place was dead, coated in molasses, thick, sticky and brown. I straightened and scanned the perimeter, searching for Cate. Most of the back wall was empty, manacles hanging limp. I blinked at the painting hanging behind the bar. It was Rachel’s, the one of Daina and her severed feet, the copycat murderer reflected in her tear. I steeled myself and kept looking. There were four columns set in front of a dais that ran the length of the building. Chains hung off of them as well. Some still held limbs, minus the torso. Vomit rose to my throat. I swallowed it down. I spotted Cate, pinned to the wall, just like the vision. Her head was cocked to the side, leaning on her shoulder, body stripped naked save for a necklace of pearls. One wrist hung free, blood dripping from it into a goblet on the edge of a small round table. I watched for her chest to rise and fall. Didn’t see it. Next to her, leaning against the wall, sat Daniel Bane. His eyes were hooded, watching me. My muscles rippled as I rolled my shoulders and pointed my pistol across the room, directly at his face. ‘Bane!’ Heads snapped to attention. His security guards, six at least, converged on me. Three blocked my line of sight, so I let off a few rounds. It didn’t drop them, but they stumbled. Bulletproof vests, or Shen Mar? Billy was ten feet away, showing a lot of teeth. I aimed at him and two others jumped me. My gun hand windmilled ninety degrees while my knife came up. I thrust my arms out like a scarecrow as both guards, unable to slow their momentum, connected full force. In the same instant as the knife impaled flesh, I pulled the trigger. The bullet went through the target’s neck, snapping it as he flew back. The blade sank into the other’s sternum and into the meat of his heart. He fell off the blade, blood gushing out of his chest as he fell to hit the floor. The rest of the guards pulled their guns and aimed. ‘Don’t shoot!’ Bane commanded. She’s mine. Too late. I took one in the leg. Must have been a graze. Pain seared through me, but I didn’t go down. Bane held up his hand. ‘Ava, dear.’ He drawled out my name. ‘I wasn’t expecting you tonight.’ ‘What have you done to Cate?’ I tilted my head toward the manacles with severed limbs. ‘To them?’ The guards stepped closer. Bane picked up the goblet and took a sip. Cate’s blood spattered on the table, no longer captured in the glass. ‘You mean this?’ His hand ran up her arm and over her breasts. ‘It’s not your concern.’ ‘You’re wrong, Bane. I know what you’re doing. Living on their memories. Feeding bodies to the sharks when you’re through.’ I waved my knife hand toward the aquarium. ‘Not any more.’ I kept my gun pointed at his head and started walking. A step later, I spotted a customer who looked like he’d have to be carried out. ‘Rourke? What the hell?’ ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he hissed. ‘I can’t help you.’ No shit. I fought down the rage. ‘Get out, and take these people with you.’ My voice was so low it shook the table, vibrating the liquid in the half-empty glasses. I turned back to Bane, not waiting for a response. He waved his hand, an absentminded gesture. Billy and the others holstered their guns and ran at me. I rolled and fired until my clip ran out, then started coldcocking them with the butt of the pistol before finishing them with the knife. Three were down when I felt teeth sink into my shoulder, tearing out flesh like a pit bull. I spun into the pain, arcing my knife over my head and driving it into the attacker’s throat. It slid deep between cervical vertebrae. Blood sprayed like a fire hose from the wound. For a moment I couldn’t see through the sticky hot fluid running down my face. A wave of nausea hit as I realised it was my blood he was barfing over me. I scrambled out from the wet gore as a baseball bat swung at my head. My hands came up to protect my face. Searing pain hit me as it cracked my forearm. I screamed and the gun flew from my fingers. Pain curled me into fetal position. Laughter hung over me, and the bat clattered to the floor. Billy grabbed my face like a basketball, and lifted it until the side of my neck was against his lips. ‘You’re mine now, Ava.’ He said the words softly. His breath brushed my skin, making hairs rise along my arms. But then he hesitated, glancing back, like he needed permission. Bane said something in the background. It was too muddled to make out. I didn’t try. All I could think of was Cate dying on that wall, alone. I couldn’t let it happen. A wave of energy washed over me. I wrenched my knife hand out of Billy’s grip and arced it toward him until it sunk into flesh. Billy screamed as I pivoted, my hand still on the knife, and found my feet. I pulled it out and plunged it into his heart. Three more rapid stabs and he wasn’t saying a thing. I sheathed the blade, swept up Billy’s gun and turned to face Bane. He lifted the glass of blood in a toast. Bravo, but Ava, you’re making this harder than necessary. You should come join me for a lovely drink of Cate. He smiled. It was the same warm expression that had charmed me in the past. More than charmed, it filled me with a feeling of comfort. Home. A sense of rightness. No! It’s who you are, my dear. Bane’s voice rose over the sound of my pounding heart. Join me, Ava. There is so much we can share together, so much I can teach you. The ecstasy of his words warred with reason as pressure built inside me. ‘Get out of my head!’ The command burst from my mouth. I threw one arm over my eyes and fired blind. The wineglass full of Cate’s blood exploded as I screamed, shattering the spell.

* * *

‘You lied to me!’ I fired again but the gun clicked empty. I tossed it aside, rage infusing every fibre of my body. My wounds throbbed, but I was so jacked, they didn’t slow me down. I swept up the bat, my grip sticky, eyes on Bane. Two things were going to happen. He was going to die, and I was taking Cate’s body home. She still hung, unmoving, chained to the wall. Bane looked drunk on her blood, cat and the canary as he watched me like I was more of the night’s entertainment. Last act. I had to get to Cate. They weren’t going to keep feeding on her like a piece of prime rib and toss the remains to the sharks. Over my damned dead body. I charged, howling, bat raised high. Bane’s remaining guards were on me. One clamped my upper arm and I swung, lightning fast. His head snapped back, bones cracking. I threw a roundhouse kick in the opposite direction, sending another guard across the room. His body hit the wall and didn’t move. Bane’s brow furrowed, as he picked glass shards out of his hand. I kept him locked in my gaze as two more men came charging at me. I swung the bat like a propeller. It sent one guy smashing through a row of tables, bowling over a few passed-out customers, scattering them on the floor. The oil lamps toppled and tablecloths caught fire. ‘Get out!’ I yelled at the washed-up clubbers. I didn’t see Rourke. Bastard. I told him to help these people. ‘Go home!’ Ava. That’s enough! Bane’s voice sounded in my head. Not even close. I roared as I punched another guard to the ground. I dropped the bat, and with an ankle in each hand, I spun him over my head and let loose. He flew through the air and hit the middle of the aquarium, fifteen feet off the ground. The glass split like thick ice. The sharks thrashed, excited by the sounds, or maybe the smell of fresh blood. They bumped the glass with blunt noses, rolling to expose their huge jaws and saw-blade teeth. The fractures deepened. Flames from the tables rose higher, smoke billowing in dark, raging plumes. Bane pushed off the wall and headed toward me. ‘Enough!’ I leapt over a fallen chair and ran straight at him. His last remaining security loomed and before I reached him, I was spear-tackled from the side. The floor hit me hard. Sprawled face down, I pushed up, grabbed onto the shirt and flesh of my assailant and flipped him, slamming him into a table, splitting it in two. I scrambled to my feet, pain shooting through my wounded leg. My head snapped toward Bane. He was still walking my way. Nothing ruffled this man. I cocked my fist, ready to run it through his face. His hand came up, caught my punch and threw me back. I skidded across the slick floor, hard on my tailbone. You could have stood by my side, Ava, but you can’t stand against me. Bane was on me. He clamped one hand around my throat and lifted me in the air, walking up the dais to the wall. With his free hand, he cut loose, throwing punches to my head and neck. I tucked my knees and ploughed my heels into his guts. Bane fell backward, but didn’t loosen his grip. I tumbled on top of him and pulled my knife, already wet with blood. It flashed between us and I swiped upward, cut the left side of his face, through his eye and into his scalp. He roared and punched me so hard I flew back twenty feet, landing in the middle of the dance floor. Smoke rose; tables burned. Alarms blared. Some of the customers who could move staggered toward the elevator, but not all. Bane charged at me, his face gushing, one eye milky white. I sidestepped and did a spinning kick, but he blocked my move and smashed me in the face. It stunned me for a moment. I sucked in my breath, shook it off, and barrelled back toward him. He started to dive to the side, but this time I latched onto his midsection, knocking him off his feet. We sailed back into the wall. I whaled on him, trading punches as he struck back, until a bat came down on my spine. Pain flashed through me like a searing thunderbolt. I was pressed into Bane, but only for a moment. Two guards hauled me up, pushed me against the wall and started throwing gut punches. I doubled over, gagging on my own blood. Stop! Daniel stepped in while the guards held me. I have her. Put those fires out. The sprinkler system should be on. See to it. He reached out and clamped my throat, lifting me off my feet again. One of the guards handed him the bat. He glanced at the ceiling, as if he could see a hundred feet over his head. Send a team up there, now! he barked at his security. He looked over his shoulder to the aquarium. And open the valves. Pump the tank before that crack widens. All but one took off. Bane tightened his grip on my throat. Who the hell let her in? The guard shrugged. A smile crept over my face, even though pressure built unbearably in my head. Bane turned back to me. His wound, a hideous gaping rend, began healing in front of my eyes. The cavernous tear was knitting together, the pale eye darkening, coming back to life. How …? I could have shown you, taught you everything. Now you’ll never know. I ground my teeth as a scream rose and caught in my throat, unable to escape his grasp. With my hands free, I grabbed his fingers and thumb, wrenching them back until they snapped. It released my scream, the roar filling my ears. Bane dropped me and staggered back. I wrapped my arms around his legs, pulling his feet out from under him. He hit the dais, me on top. I pile-drove into his guts, pounding him with fists. He caught one wrist and squeezed so hard I thought it would break. You don’t know who you’re dealing with, little Mar. Then he backhanded me and I flew over a broken table and hit the ground. It was a while before I could move. By then, Bane appeared overhead. He laughed, his broken fingers popping as he straightened them. The sounds mixed with the crackling flames and the roar in my head. Bane planted his foot on my shoulder, pressing me to the ground. You’re nothing, Ava Sykes. Nothing at all. The bat followed, crashing down at my head. I rolled into his leg. It missed by a fraction. Next strike I wrenched myself out from under his foot and stopped the bat with both forearms crossed in front of my face. Wood shattered; pain radiating up my limbs. He dropped, healed hands clamping my throat again. I groped for a shard and found one. With the splintered point facing him, I drove it upward, toward his chest. I felt muscles give way as it ripped through his abdominal cavity. Bane rolled to the side, his knees drawn up. Both hands were on his guts, trying to hold them in. Blood seeped around his fingers, spilling out in pulses. My breath was forced, ragged as I sucked in air. I jumped him, arms swinging, pounding him into the floor. ‘You deceived me. Tricked me into trusting you.’ I growled out the words as the overhead sprinkler came on, washing Bane’s spattered blood from my face, down my cheek into the corner of my mouth. Without trying, I tasted it. My tongue heated, sensations shooting through my head. I saw Cate getting her promotion to VIP. Bane slipped a ribbon around her wrist … There was more, but like waking from a dream, the images faded away. I was left panting over Bane. I had to see it all. I had to know the truth. Without thinking I lowered my mouth to his neck, pulled back my lips and bit. His flesh was the texture of cheddar cheese and about as tart. It gave way that easy. I gagged, repulsed, but tore into his throat anyway. The strength of my jaws and slice of my canines surprised me, but not as much as the blood filling my mouth. It ran down my gullet to hit me with a blast of images in tones of grey, black and green. They jolted me like zaps of electricity. I saw myself in the office chair, right after I first stumbled into VIP. He laughed at me! Thought me naïve. Then, I watched his face in the mirror as he painted his eyes unrecognisable and ran those vertical lines from his scalp to his brow, lip to chin. He chased me down the back alley and mimed the gunshot toward me as the bus pulled away. Next he was buying roses and hand delivering them to the hospital. You’re insane! I saw Daina as the blood drained from her feetless legs. Scores of others died the same way. Year after year, decade after decade, the ribbons, the torture, the goblets of dark fluid and the brutal memories they conjured, and all while, in the mirror, Daniel Bane painted on his seamless, warrior face. You’re not the copycat. It’s been you all along. The visions pummelled me, like machine-gun fire, nearly knocking me over. The taunting. The fear. The time it took for them to die. Then I saw him with Cate again, forced to watch as he drained away her life. She’d trusted him to the end, confusion and terror flooding her face when she realised it wasn’t a game. I jerked myself back from the visions and found her, hanging above me, grey and unmoving. Noooo! The cry cut loose from the depths of my soul and I hammered Bane with both fists. Bones broke. His spine snapped. Gore splashed my face. The sounds became rhythmic, laboured. Breathe in. Thud. Breathe out. Thud. Over and over. I didn’t stop. The screaming thinned as my throat went raw. Water ran off my head, blurred my vision. Then flesh gave way to concrete. Pain shot up my arms. Chips flew into my face, wet with blood and water. Finally, I looked down. There was only a dark pool where Bane’s head had been. I sat back on my heels, panting, hands crippled and limp in front of me. I watched the stain wash away as I stood. Who’s nothing now, Daniel Bane? CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Sensations slammed back into my body, pumping pain with every heartbeat. I stumbled to Cate. Sprinkler water mixed with my tears, plastering hair to my face. The cries coming from my swollen throat choked off, turning into grunting and gasps for breath. I tore open the clasps on her manacles, letting her fall like a puppet, strings cut. ‘It’s time to go home, sweetheart.’ She slumped against me and I stood there, panting, waiting for my breath to steady. It didn’t. With her shoulders against the wall, I squatted, allowing her upper body to fall down my back. Cate sighed as I stood, or had I imagined it? I held my breath. ‘Cate?’ Nothing. No rising of her chest. No pulse I could feel. Just air forced from her lungs. That was all. My eyes welled again and snot ran out my nose, diluted by the icy shower hammering down on my head. I turned away from the dais and limped toward the exit. Fire raged around the room, flames jumping to the stage, incinerating the backdrop and licking the edges of the aquarium, turning the glass smoky black. Oil floated on the water. There was no putting it out. The aquarium glass cracked further, fractures shooting up the wall. Seawater sprayed from the focal point like a high-pressure hose. The rush of water spread the oil, sweeping fire across the dance floor, linking the oil lamps as if connecting the dots. ‘Come on,’ I whispered to Cate and patted her cold back. ‘Home.’ My rage had moved over, making room for despair. If it hadn’t been for Cate, dead as she was, I might have collapsed. Let the ruin take me. But it was for Cate. I wouldn’t let her be buried down here, forever entombed with the likes of Daniel Bane, and Billy, this tribe of copycat killers. Not that for you, Cate. I weaved around burning tables, and motes of flaming oil, trying to keep from tripping over in the water. It was calf deep and rising. My boots sloshed with it, making each step heavier than the next. Slowly the sprinklers choked off until they were only a drizzle. Water still sprayed from the middle of the aquarium, the cracks spreading. I coughed with each wet, smoke-filled breath, searching from side to side, looking for survivors, wary of guards. With that thought, I stumbled into a woman, a ‘siren’, drenched, bleeding from her wrists. She was dazed, sitting in a chair, water lapping her legs, swirling by her fingertips as her arms hung slack. ‘Hey!’ I shouted. She didn’t respond. ‘Wake up!’ She turned to me, her brow wrinkled, like she was trying to recognise something. Anything. I hobbled closer. ‘What’s your name?’ ‘Cin.’ Cin? She must have been promoted since our little chat in the staff lounge. Seemed like forever ago. ‘Cin, do you remember me?’ ‘Ava?’ ‘That’s right.’ Her chin dropped to her chest. I shifted Cate’s weight and shook Cin’s shoulder. ‘We have to go!’ I tilted my head in the direction of the elevator. ‘Come on.’ I tried to soften my voice and sound encouraging. I couldn’t imagine how I looked, torn clothes, bloody hair, battered face, dead girl on shoulder. I sucked my teeth. Yep. They tasted of blood. There’d be some kind of berserk fire still in my eyes, or maybe that was gone now. My head spun too much for me to tell. ‘Stand up, Cin. I’m going to get you out of here.’ She obeyed. Her eyes were vacant, hardly aware of her surroundings, or maybe completely overwhelmed by them. A person could only take so much. I was inches away from that myself. ‘It’ll be alright. We’re nearly there.’ As we reached the elevator, Cate’s head bumped against the backs of my legs. Cate? She sighed. I felt the rush of air from her chest. ‘Cate?’ I pulled her down off my shoulder and cradled her like a child. ‘Cate! You’re alive!’ I looked over at Cin. ‘She’s alive! Quick!’ I might as well have been talking to the wall, as far as Cin’s response time went, but Cate’s lids fluttered. Her chest rose and fell in little shallow breaths. I could see that now. I could also see the blood dripping from her wrists. ‘Help me get her hands up!’ I yelled at Cin over the roaring flames and spraying water. Cin responded, lifting the lacerated wrists, then pushed the elevator button. The light went on. We watched the dial go from the surface to club level, then continue down to VIP. The bell dinged and the doors opened. Rourke was there, his shirt torn and bloody, his face covered with soot. ‘Any more left?’ By the look of the handprints on the walls, this wasn’t the first time he’d returned to the VIP lounge to search for survivors. ‘Didn’t see anyone else.’ Water rushed in with us. It was rising fast and so were the flames. ‘Go.’ He hit the UP button for us. ‘I’ll do one more sweep.’ As the doors started to close, thunder split the air. The aquarium burst and a tidal wave surged toward us. ‘Back in!’ I cried out. ‘Cin! Stop the doors.’ Cin had gone catatonic again. She buckled to her knees. I thrust out my wounded leg, stopping the doors with my boot, stifling the scream. Rourke squeezed in and the doors sealed shut. My eyes met his and locked on. It was the closest thing to a goodbye I’d ever felt. I could tell he didn’t like our chances of survival any more than I did. Slowly the cables engaged and the elevator shuddered. It wasn’t the first time I’d wished I believed in a higher power, if only to beseech their ass to save us. Save Cate. Her eyes were closed, breath shallow gasps. The water level was going down, leaking through the crack under the door. I imagined it trickling down the shaft, rushing to meet the seawater rising below. ‘We have to stop the bleeding.’ Rourke pulled off his shirt, bit the edge with his eye tooth and tore a few strips. As we passed the club floor, he bandaged Cate’s wound. ‘Cin’s too!’ He wrapped her wrist and lifted her up, leaning her against his chest. Our eyes caught again. It looked like we had a few more minutes to live, so I let him have it. ‘You knew about VIP.’ My brow creased. ‘You fucking knew it was Bane, all along?’ He didn’t answer. When the elevator dinged at street level, he put his hand on my shoulder. ‘It’s complicated.’ I shrugged him off and stepped into the foyer. Heat slapped my face. Sirens blared. Firemen had high-pressure water shooting into the ruined building. The place was thick with mist and smoke. I turned toward the exit and tripped, my leg giving out. ‘Ava!’ Rossi ran to me, catching us before we hit the ground. ‘Are there any others?’ His eyes went to Rourke as he spoke. Rossi’s shirt was covered in blood and soot, his dark hair dripping. We both shook our heads. If there are, it’s too late. Rossi pulled off his jacket and draped it over Cate, then he gathered her into his arms. ‘Will she live?’ I tucked the jacket around her, not meeting his eyes. ‘Maybe, one way or another.’ He scanned me up and down. ‘Can you walk?’ I was scared to think about what he meant by one way or another so I limped along beside him, not speaking a word. More than once, Miguel Rossi turned to me, something like astonishment in his eyes. Rourke was just as confused. ‘You do this, Sykes?’ He indicated the hole in the entrance as we made our way through it. I shrugged. ‘Was in a hurry.’ Rossi frowned. How? A small smile twitched my lips. 1982 Cortina. Mint condition. He glanced toward the smoking chassis. Not any more.

* * *

Ambulances pulled up across the street. Cops poured out of special unit vans. More fire trucks arrived. I touched Rourke’s shoulder after an attendant took Cin from his arms. ‘I’ll make you a deal, detective. You keep me out of this, and I’ll do the same for you.’ I didn’t think I would ever forgive him for sitting by while people were tortured and drained of blood, but I wasn’t going to have him implicate me. ‘It’s win-win, Rourke. Otherwise, we both go down.’ People who steal cars, drive them into buildings and murder one of the most powerful men in the country aren’t generally hired by the CDC to serve and protect the global community. ‘She’s drugged up, I’m guessing?’ Rossi interrupted before Rourke could answer. ‘To the hilt.’ I looked across at the special units cops. ‘Can you treat her, without the hospital reporting?’ ‘The hospital has no choice. I can treat her at home though.’ ‘Is that safe? She’ll make it, right?’ Rossi put his hand on her heart, checked her eyes, gums, breathing. ‘She needs blood. My car’s this way.’ I guess blood was something he wasn’t in a short supply of. The ground rumbled, gyrating my back teeth. I hesitated. ‘We cool, Rourke?’ I wasn’t leaving without an agreement. He nodded. ‘Go. Take care of her.’ Rourke straightened up and headed toward the cops. ‘We’ll talk later.’ ‘I have these two,’ Rossi said to the approaching emergency attendant. ‘No more coming out.’ I caught up to Rossi, but couldn’t see where his car was parked. ‘Keys in my pocket.’ Rossi lifted Cate higher, giving me access. I slipped my hand in, ignored the feel of his thigh, found the keys and clicked the button. A black SUV winked amber lights at us. How many cars did this guy have? I opened the door to the back seat, climbed in and took Cate, cradling her head in my lap. Rossi opened his med- kit, drew up a clear solution and injected it straight into her heart. ‘Do you know her type?’ ‘O positive.’ ‘Are you certain?’ ‘Yes.’ He pulled out a packet of whole blood and had the transfusion set up in less than a minute. ‘Rewrap her wrists, and the ankle. Bandages in the kit. Snug, but not constricting flow.’ He pulled a blanket from the back and covered her. ‘I’m on it. Drive,’ I said without looking up. Rossi didn’t need any encouragement. He jumped in, spun the vehicle around and sped away. In moments we were purring down highway 405. A wave of exhaustion hit me as I wondered how this would go. Cate’s pulse had improved already. I could feel her heart beating strong and steady, but she wasn’t conscious. ‘She’ll make it.’ I believed him, but what about everyone else? Would the Shen Mar be exposed for the murdering demons they were, or would it just be some freak accident that destroyed the most popular nightclub in the city, owner and all? Or would it be me in the headlines — crazed undergrad attacks nightclub, held for grand theft auto, arson and murder? I’ll set up a meeting with Jones. ‘Hey, doc! Are you ever going to learn to stay out of my head?’ He cleared his throat and nodded. I swept dripping wet hair back from Cate’s face. My ponytail had come down, somewhere along the way. ‘Can I use your phone?’ Rossi passed it back to me. I swiped through the white pages for Jen Bradshaw, found the number and tapped it in. She answered on the third ring, her voice croaky. ‘Who is this?’ ‘Ava Sykes.’ ‘It’s a bit early …’ ‘You want to get your camera crew down to Poseidon. Fast.’ ‘Now?’ ‘Yeah, but you didn’t hear it from me.’ I turned the phone off and handed it back. Rossi was staring at me through the rear-view mirror. ‘What?’ I asked. ‘Bane let you go?’ I took a deep breath and let it out long and slow. ‘He didn’t want to.’ ‘How’d you escape?’ ‘Dead men don’t have much control over me.’ Rossi’s eyes widened. ‘Dead? Are you sure?’ I pictured the pool of blood washing away from the dais. ‘I’m sure.’ ‘How’d you get past his guards?’ ‘I killed ’em.’ ‘All?’ ‘Pretty much.’ Rossi’s face went white. ‘I had Bane’s blood. Saw it all.’ I wiped my mouth at the thought. ‘He’s the killer. Was. Draining Cate and all the others, even decades ago.’ ‘You don’t have to justify putting Bane down. I’ve been watching him for longer than you’ve been alive and …’ It took a minute for his words to register, and then the ground fell out from under me. ‘You knew?’ ‘I told you he was dangerous.’ Rossi paused. ‘I’m here to observe, not act. You didn’t declare your allegiance.’ ‘Still haven’t.’ The images of Bane’s countless murders would haunt me forever, and this guy’s idea of a warning was ‘he’s dangerous’? ‘Riding a bicycle downtown is dangerous. Keeping company with Bane was more like swallowing a grenade.’ ‘But you waltzed into Poseidon and took him out like it was no big deal.’ I held up my left hand to interrupt. It shook like a leaf. Two fingers were twisted at wrong angles and where skin had once covered my knuckles was now a gruesome mixture of blood, tendon and bone. ‘Waltzed?’ Cate shuddered and I tucked the blanket around her. ‘Are you absolutely sure Bane’s dead?’ ‘I pounded his head into the floor until I hit concrete. That’s dead, right?’ Rossi nodded, his full attention returning to the road. When he glanced back in the rear-view mirror, he looked at me in a whole new way. CHAPTER TWENTY- THREE

I woke up in the chair beside Cate’s bed. Judging by the crick in my neck, I’d been out for a while. I reached for her bandaged wrist. It was warm to the touch, her pulse strong and steady. Rossi had transfused her with two pints of O positive before straightening my dislocated fingers. After that, he shot off to the hospital. The ER needed him. Rossi said Cate would make a complete recovery, as long as she didn’t have any underlying AADDs — those Aftermath Associated Degenerative Disorders. I didn’t think she did. Relief washed through me as I stood and stretched. Judging by the sounds in the kitchen, or rather, the galley, he was back. The blender whirled at high speed as my stomach growled. I wondered what time it was. In the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face. What looked back at me from the mirror was almost unrecognisable. A mess, certainly, in an oversized tee Rossi had given me and bruises and gashes that were, weirdly, healing even faster than ever. Now that I knew why, or at least part of the why, that Mar have hypermetabolic recovery time, I felt comforted. Empowered. This wasn’t a sign of a deadly blood disorder. This was a part of who I was, alive and kicking — human cells feeding Mar cells in a symbiotic balance. Most of the time, anyway. I tied the tee in a knot around my waist and combed my hair back with my fingers. You’re not a freak, Sykes. You’re just more than you thought. More than human. When I came out of the bathroom, Rossi was at Cate’s bedside. Who called you a freak? Me. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. Please stop listening in. Please stop broadcasting. Right. I needed to work that out. Rossi and I exchanged a look that was about to end in a smile. I could feel the corners of my mouth twitching, and see his doing the same, until the reality of what he’d withheld returned. Before I could say anything, Cate stirred, distracting us both. Her lids fluttered open. ‘Hey, you.’ I sat on the opposite side of Rossi. Her smile was contagious. ‘You guys taking good care of me?’ Her voice was sweet and steady. Not as weak as before. ‘Sure we are.’ ‘How’re you feeling?’ Rossi took her hand. ‘Can you squeeze my finger,’ he asked her, not waiting for an answer. She could and did, looking like she was enjoying the exercise very much. That’s my Cate. ‘What happened?’ She homed in on my injuries. ‘Was there an accident?’ The blazing Cortina came to mind. ‘Um … sort of.’ What do you want her to know, Ava? Rossi didn’t turn his head my way as he asked. Is this what you do? Make choices about people’s memories? You need to be clear, is all. Will you tell her who you are? What you’ve done? A bit hard. I don’t even know who I am. I did, sort of, and I’d planned to tell Cate, Tom too, but not like this, all at once. Not yet. What’s on the news? Nothing about the blood-fest, if that’s what you mean. Poseidon’s been destroyed, obviously. Twenty-three missing, so far. Poseidon’s not going to be open for business any time soon? The Shen won’t be running so much as a hotdog stand in New LA, not for the rest of this decade. ‘I guess by the looks on your faces, I messed up bad.’ Cate hunched further under the covers. I shook my head. ‘What happened to you, it wasn’t your fault.’ I thought about that again. ‘It was a bit your fault.’ She cringed. ‘I got strung out way too much, I know. Do you think this means I’m fired?’ I tried not to laugh. You want to tell her? Rossi asked. Or shall I? I let out my breath. ‘Cate, hun, you haven’t been fired, but the job’s ended. You probably shouldn’t count on a letter of recommendation either.’ ‘Oh, shoot. Why?’ ‘There was a fire. Poseidon’s been demolished.’ ‘Did you save me, Ava?’ ‘She did,’ Rossi said, ‘but don’t worry about anything right now. Your only job is to rest, and heal.’ ‘I love that advice.’ Her eyes closed softly. ‘Where’s Joey? He’ll be so mad at me,’ she whispered. ‘Damn.’ I’d completely forgotten about him. He was probably across the street from Poseidon watching firefighters sift through the ashes, or pacing the hospital wards, searching for his girlfriend’s body. Or maybe he was in a holding cell for breaking and entering my apartment. I knew the last thought shouldn’t have made me happy, but there it was. ‘Call him for me, please?’ Cate asked without opening her eyes. She was drifting back to sleep. We sat with her until her breathing changed to soft snoring. I let go of her hand and followed Rossi out of the room and to the galley. When we reached the kitchen, he hit the blender one more time and poured me a glass. ‘Drink.’ I downed it in a few gulps. Thanks. For now, the mind speech was easier than forming words. Why not use it? Rossi showed me his tablet. ‘Front page.’ It had quite a headline. Poseidon returns to the sea. ‘Is that what happened?’ ‘Read it. The entire building fell into a sinkhole.’ He shook his head. ‘They have it looping on all the news sites.’ ‘Jen, with LA-Live?’ ‘You guessed it.’ At least Jen’s career would skyrocket. ‘So the deaths are reported as part of the disaster, not some crazed attacker?’ ‘Looks like it.’ I barely heard him. The second paragraph of the article had me by the throat. A major shareholder, CHI Tech Corporation, say they will stop at nothing to get to the bottom of this disaster. ‘Ava?’ My heart pounded in my ears. ‘CHI Tech,’ I whispered, reading on. ‘You knew about this as well?’ Rossi took a deep breath, ready to launch. ‘Wait.’ It wasn’t like they were standing on the dock, about to arrest me. ‘I have to call Cate’s boyfriend.’ Joey may be a jerk, but nobody should be left to worry like that. Rossi handed me his phone. He didn’t let go when I grabbed it. ‘You’re surprised CHI Tech was involved?’ Heat flushed my face. ‘That’s rich, considering you could have helped, told me things from the start.’ ‘My hands were tied. Teern would have buried me in Antarctica, if he knew I’d said a thing to you. Under the circumstances, I told you more than I should have.’ ‘You left me in the dark.’ ‘I gave you hints along the way. I warned you to stay away from Bane.’ ‘No one’s nominating you mentor of the year, I promise.’ He let go of the phone and I took it, turning my back. I tapped in Joey’s number, photographic memory still intact. While it rang, I asked Rossi without turning around, ‘What do I tell him?’ ‘Say she’s alive and under observation.’ His voice was tight. ‘No visitors?’ ‘None.’ I heard him walk away. After hanging up from Joey, evading his questions about what happened at my apartment, I grabbed my mangled pack and went topside. Rossi was standing next to the mast, staring out to sea. I was about to hand him back the phone when I looked at the time and date. ‘Oh, holy hell. Is this right?’ Rossi turned to me but didn’t speak. ‘Shit, it is! I have a microbiology exam in one hour.’ How would I clean up and find my way to the lecture hall on time? ‘Take the Audi.’ He reached into his pocket and tossed me his keys. I caught them, too stunned to speak. ‘Try to leave it in better shape than the Cortina, will you? I just had the door replaced.’ ‘Thanks.’ I pocketed the keys and hightailed it down the gangplank.

* * *

The next few days fell into a familiar rhythm of study, eat, sleep, exams. Rinse; repeat. Who knew the stress of exam week would be the most comforting thing in my life, ever? Tom and I had one more chat about our lapse into the past and then found the BFF vibe again. It was perfect timing because one of the things we did best was help each other cram. The other thing, we agreed not to mention ever again. Often it was the three of us, Zoe included. She’d learnt the art of the power smoothie, her nurturing nature becoming enjoyable. She also started training at the academy on a regular basis. We were actually on our way to being good friends. Rossi, on the other hand, remained distant. I had no idea what was up. Well, I had a clue. I was mad that he’d kept so much from me, and that Cate nearly died. He was mad I didn’t understand the meaning of the word observer, and had done so much damage on my own. What was left of the adversary he was supposed to be monitoring — the Shen Mar in New LA — had gone to ground. Vanished. Apparently, Shen were easier to keep an eye on when they were together in one place. There was a lot to work out between me and the doc, my main link to the ‘other’ side of the family. I put it on the back burner until exams were over. It felt simpler that way. Cate recovered quickly, though she was shocked to find she was aboard a yacht, not stuck in a hospital ward. Whatever Rossi told her, by way of explanation, must have worked because she didn’t ask me a thing. I’m guessing it was the mention of the quantity and quality of drugs in her system. The hospital would have made a full report, opening a criminal investigation. Cate was so grateful, once healed and more aware of what had been done to her, what she’d done to herself, that she set a whole new intention for the future. When I’d left her yesterday, in her own condo, not Joey’s, she was filling out course applications, ready to start back next term. I put in a good word for her at Lucky’s, which just reopened. They had a spot for a bartender. The pay wasn’t as good as at Poseidon, but she wouldn’t have to worry about being chained in a basement and drained of blood. Some jobs had all the perks. I’d have to find work this summer, too, if there weren’t enough hours at Lucky’s, and be ready for the CDC internship interviews, but not yet. Today was my last exam, histopathology, and before I sat it, I had to face Rourke. He’d insisted, though I’d tried to brush him off, or postpone at least. What was there to talk about? He wasn’t keeping me under surveillance any more. Of course, there was no official word on the copycat killer’s demise, but we both knew those murders were solved. It was as dodgy as ever. No denying that. Maybe Rourke wanted to confess? Tell his side of things? To be honest, I didn’t want to hear it. I hated that he was crooked, on the take or whatever he was going to call it. It blew a hole in my not-so-unconscious hero worship of the man. Pop goes another weasel. I packed up my laptop, water bottle and the power bars Zoe had set out for me. The to-do list read: Police station, final exam, freedom. I could live with that. Rourke sent a beat cop to pick me up. Thoughtful, or scary, depending on what happened next. My guts weren’t roiling, and I wasn’t in cuffs, so it was probably thoughtful. I didn’t have to wait for more than a few minutes either. When Rourke showed me into one of the interrogation rooms, my skin prickled. He wasn’t going to turn on me, was he? Scapegoat? My heart raced as I took a seat. The first thing Rourke did was shut off the camera and sound recorder. It set off a beep, green light flashing, until he swiped it with his security clearance card. Rourke eyed me in a way I hadn’t seen before. Couldn’t quite recognise it, which wasn’t adding to my comfort factor. ‘I’m going to need a statement,’ he said, holding his tie to his chest as he sat. He was down to his dress shirt, like he’d already put in a full day. It was 10.00 a.m. ‘I expected that.’ I guess … He pushed a pad and pen over to me, and started dictating. ‘You were at training on the night in question.’ I stared at him. ‘Go on. Write it down.’ ‘I was training?’ ‘We both were.’ He tapped the pad. ‘Let’s do this. You have an exam today, right?’ ‘Last one.’ ‘Good. Now write.’ I did what he said, then looked up, waiting for the rest of the totally made up bullshit story to unfold. ‘You helped me coach the newbies.’ That was sort of true, not. ‘I led the class from eight-thirty to ten-thirty.’ It sank in. This was his alibi as much as it was mine. Our academy wasn’t open after midnight, but Rourke was painting a picture, one that didn’t involve him hanging out in the local chain-and-drain, or me stealing Cortinas and driving them into nightclub foyers. Especially, it didn’t involve either of us killing anyone, human or Mar. That night, according to Rourke, we trained, went out to coffee with a few others in our club and were home before 1.00 a.m. Computer IP addresses would show that I was up before dawn at the twenty-four hour internet cafe down the block, taking practice exams until lunchtime. Meanwhile, a deranged friend broke into my apartment. Damn. Poor Joey. The police, responding to complaints, put him in a holding cell until he sobered up. No charges were laid. He was released by 9.00 a.m. Rourke’s IP records had him viewing his bookmarked porn for the rest of the night. Yuk. I guess it was believable. ‘And this is watertight?’ I asked as I signed my name at the bottom and dated it. He nodded, his face grim. ‘It’s taken care of.’ ‘How?’ ‘Jones.’ That made sense. Kathleen Jones had caught up with me on campus. In our little private chat, she’d asked for my IP address and permission to view my files remotely. I’d said, Yes, just don’t delete anything. She’d eyed me strangely, like I was wearing all my clothes inside out. I didn’t probe as to why. ‘You have powerful people on your side.’ Rourke interrupted my thoughts. ‘If you say so.’ I tried to work out who this man really was. He seemed to be doing the same to me. ‘So,’ I finally asked, ‘are you one of them?’ He wasn’t that big on wearing shades, not overly fond of salt, and didn’t show more than average strength, for a professor, which was pretty damn strong, but still … I didn’t know how I’d feel if he was Mar and had never filled me in on my ‘condition.’ I tensed, waiting for the answer. ‘I don’t even know what they are.’ The look on his face couldn’t have been faked. ‘But I was about to ask you the same, Sykes.’ I didn’t skip a beat. ‘You’re kidding, right?’ I shoved the pad over to his side of the table and leaned back in my chair. ‘We done here?’ He was up, turning the recorder back on. ‘Thank you, Ms Sykes. The LAPD appreciates your cooperation in this matter.’ ‘Same, I’m sure.’ He nodded. ‘Good luck with your final.’ He opened his wallet and pulled out a fifty. ‘Take a cab.’ I shouldered my pack and left, not entirely sure how to feel about what just happened.

* * *

Two hours later, I made my way across the street to Science 5 lecture hall. The sun was setting, air muggy. This was it, the last exam. Was I going to make the grade for CDC? My guts roiled. Would I be able to afford the internship, with the new government un-funding? Don’t even go there now. I had to stay relaxed. Focussed. This was the lab component for histopathology. We would be shown a hundred slides, in full technicolour, a spectrum I could only see half of. On land, anyway. I claimed it would be to my advantage, like the colour blind soldiers the government had used to detect camouflaged artillery, back in the day. The jury was still out if it would be an asset or liability. While I thought about antigen-antibody complex deposition, the exam monitors arrived and opened the door. It was a small lecture hall, an amphitheatre with a capacity of a hundred only. No bad seats in the house. On the twenty-foot square screen were the rules in bullet form: Exam HISTO509b

• Leave your bags at the door • Pencils are provided • Questions are multiple choice • You will have 1 minute to view each slide • Do not leave your seat until the exam is complete • No talking, eating, or viewing others’ work • Water is available at the cooler. Collect yours before the exam begins • Good luck

I hung my pack on a hook, grabbed a water and found my seat, mid-tier, on the aisle. When everyone settled, the lights dimmed. A buzzer sounded and we were told to open our exam booklets. The first image on the screen popped up, and we were off. By slide one hundred, my eyes itched and felt blurry, but I had that excited ping in my guts, like I nailed it. Pretty sure, anyway. The last question read: A previously healthy 24-year-old presents with a low-grade fever, general malaise and sore throat. The symptoms are ongoing for over three weeks. Physical exam showed pharyngitis and tender lymphadenopathy. The patient’s peripheral blood smear indicates which of the following to be the most likely etiology and risk factor for this illness? Choose two. Muffled shouts outside distracted me. A car alarm sounded. I had to pull my attention back to the test. There was a range of possible answers, all somewhat matching the history, but the blood slide was the tip-off. I saw it right away. The neutrophils had no segments, making them monocytes. The case shouted mononucleosis, and there it was, option number four. I also checked option five, Close personal contact (kissing) with her date, for the risk factor. As I put my pencil down, I heard more car alarms go off, closer this time. Tyres screeched. People were yelling. Screaming? The exam buzzer went off and I jumped. ‘Pencils down, students.’ The lights went up. ‘Double-check your name and student number, and turn your exam booklets face down on your desks. Monitors will collect them once —’ The exam monitor’s words were lost under a barrage of horns, wrenching metal and falling glass. I held my breath, listening for more, then exhaled slowly as the sound dissipated. Must have been an accident in the parking lot. Hope no one was hurt. The monitor started to dismiss us, but was cut short again when the entire lecture hall shuddered. My shoulder blades pinched together. Cold fingers crept up my spine and the hairs at the back of my neck stood out. My half- filled water cup quivered. Liquid rose up the sides and burst into droplets that levitated over my desk. WTF? I swept up the test before it got soaked. The sound of grating metal had everyone spinning around in time to see the doors torn from their hinges. Light beamed in from the entrance, along with a blast of sounds from outside. It was mayhem. Police sirens wailing. What the hell was going on? My breath caught as the answer stepped in, blocking out everything behind. I caught the scent of the sea. Holy hell! He had to duck to enter the hall. Duck! The man was seven foot tall but that wasn’t what disturbed me. As he straightened, I saw he wasn’t wearing a thing. Not a thread. That didn’t stop me from recognising him though. No way. Naked guy was a vision, his muscles sculpted to perfection and hair so long and wet it clung to his back and thighs. Water dripped down his legs as he slowly walked down the steps. His coal- black eyes were scanning for someone. Guess who? I swallowed hard. A few women, and a guy or two, sighed and passed out. Others gasped, but it wasn’t the sound of fear. If they’d known him, it would have been. He reached my row and looked down. Ava! His voice boomed in my head. My body trembled as I gazed at him, pausing just before I reached his waist … my eyes quickly darted to his face towering above me. He bent to my level, hands braced on the desk. It cracked, but he didn’t seem to notice. ‘We need to talk.’ His voice was low, spoken just for me. It vibrated through my body. I cocked my head to the side and tried not to quake. It was strange, how different he looked on land. Granted, I hadn’t seen him properly that day I’d been thrown into the sea and met this king of the Mar, but still. I sucked in my breath. ‘Fine, Teern, but you’re going to have to wait until we’re dismissed.’ I pulled my eyes away to find the monitor. She was plastered against the back of her chair, face a frozen mask, mouth open, eyes fixed, unblinking. ‘Yeah, I think we’re good to go.’ I rose from my seat, squaring the test on the dry desk next to me. He straightened and let me past. All I could think as I led the way up the stairs was, thank the gods I completed my final exam. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

It takes collaboration to publish a book: writer(s), agents, editors, proofreaders, typesetters, artists, designers, reps, marketers, film and video producers, bookshop managers … and most importantly, readers who bring the story to life. My gratitude goes out you all, beginning with the muses, both relentless and kind. Deep thanks to my family, Sara, Aaron, Kayla, Kinayda, Son, Shawn, Grayson and Zac, who support me without question or pause. I love you guys! Special appreciation also goes to my agent, Nicole Resciniti, who said, ‘Kim, why don’t you write an urban fantasy?’ and to Aaron Briggs for the brainstorming, cinematic vision, continuity alerts and action authentication. There wouldn’t be an Ava Sykes without you. Huge thanks go to Jean Norman, for talking me up to Harlequin publisher, Jo Mackay, over lunch. Fabulous timing. And Harlequin Books Australia, you guys rock! I have so much appreciation for everyone there who has championed Ava Sykes, especially Jo Mackay and Annabel Blay, and the art department who nailed the cover so brilliantly. For the fantastic structural and copyediting, warm gratitude goes to Stephanie Smith. It’s so good to work together again! For the medical/weapons and biotechnical advice, thank you Greg Briggs and Esther Jones who have kept all the molecules, red cells, revolvers and P-waves in the right places. For the inside info on bouncing the rowdies, I thank Jack Norman. Also bear hugs to MonkeyMe films for the blockbuster trailer and beta reading. Thank you Shawn Wilder, my brilliant sister! Finally, a big cheers to Julia Knapman, Laurie Ormond and Greg Briggs for proofreading with such diligence and speed, Michelle Hall for her outstanding academic support, Jodi Osborne for photography and friendship, and special thanks to my dear friends who have supported my writing from the start, Traci Harding (the rocking quote too!) Mystic Medusa, Jeannette Maw, Lizzie Fuller, Ly De Angeles, Jimmy, Janette, Candy, Jacque, Victoria and, especially, EJ and the newest member of the team, Ra. You’ve all helped bring Ava Sykes to life. Connect with us for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

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Watch our reviews, author interviews and more on Harlequin TV First Published 2016 ISBN 978 148921065 4

THE BLOOD IN THE BEGINNING: AN AVA SYKES NOVEL © 2016 by Kim Falconer Australian Copyright 2016 New Zealand Copyright 2016

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