Jak Koke - Stranger souls

On her immediate left, Nadja could see the huge maw that opened into the rock. This was the "public" entrance to the

lair, and it was extremely well protected by the best magical and technological security that existed.

At least that's what Nadja had been led to believe. But she had also been led to believe that Dunkelzahn was invulnerable. And that assumption had been false. Dunkelzahn was dead.

There's still a chance he's alive, Nadja reminded herself, even though she didn't really believe he'd survived. She didn't want to give up hope, but everything she remembered about the blast, every detail indicated that the dragon had been assassinated. And if he was alive, where had he gone? He'd never been out of contact with her for longer than a day since she'd met him that fateful evening in Paris.

She still remembered his human form as he stood in the center of a small crowd, discussing Shifting Vienna, one of Alone's paintings. His boyish face and hands, his ancient eyes. He looked up at her, into her with his mind, and a clean-lined smile touched his flawless face. Just before he excused himself from the others to come over her.

There had been an electricity between them. He touched part of her soul that she'd let no one come near; too many had tried in years gone by. Too many had been shut out since her parents had died. It was as if she'd been reserving that part of her spirit for Dunkelzahn. It wasn't sexual. It wasn't romantic. It was simple connection, friendship on such a visceral, natural level that there was no denying it.

Nadja fought off the memory. She wiped her eyes, cursing herself for weakness at a time when she needed to be strong. If only I could talk to Ryan, she thought. He '11 have some answers about what happened.

But Ryan had not made contact from wherever he was, even though Nadja knew he would try as soon as he learned of Dunkelzahn's death. Ryan Mercury was perhaps the only other person who had been as close to the dragon as she was.

Nadja checked her reflection in the telecom's blank screen. She took a deep breath, pushed back a stray strand of her black hair, and put on a smile for her telecom call.

"Gordon," she said to her secretary. "Please connect me with Jane-in-the-box."

"Yes, Miss Daviar," came Gordon's reply. "A moment please."

"Thank you."

A minute later, Jane-in-the-box's icon appeared on the screen. The decker's persona was an idealized woman with billowing blond hair, impossibly long legs, huge gravity-defying breasts, and tiny feet. She wore red leather pants and a low-cut jacket stretched tight over her bosom.

The image brought a smile to Nadja's lips. She knew Jane-a thin, homely brunette with more intelligence than femininity. Her use of this persona was a statement about the ridiculousness of society's ideal female.

"Yes, Nadja," Jane said. "What can I do for you?"

"I need a favor."

"Fire away."

"First, I want to know how…" Nadja searched for the right word, found it. "How loyal are you to me, now that Drunkelzahn is gone?"

Jane's icon gave a relaxed smile. "Not to worry, Nadja," she said. "I was devoted to Dunkelzahn because of what he was striving to do. I'm no less committed to that goal now that he's gone."

Nadja almost let herself sit back in the chair. Excellent. But she didn't want her relief to show too much. "That's what I was hoping to hear," she said. "The favor, then, concerns Quicksilver."

"Yes?"

"I need any information you've got about what he's doing and how I can get in touch with him."

"I can give you a recording of his last communication with Dunkelzahn."

"Please do."

"I think you should come down here in person. The data is very sensitive-too sensitive even for internal fiber-optic lines."

Nadja looked hard at Jane. "You've listened to it?"

Jane's icon nodded.

"Can you draw any conclusions?"

"Yes. Quicksilver was supposed to return right away. He should have been back here by now." "He hasn't made contact at all?" "No."

Nadja shifted in her chair, trying to do it delicately so as

not to show any of the discomfort that she felt. 'Td like you to track him down, Jane," she said. "Use whatever resources you need. Track him down and get him back here."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Jane said.

Nadja disconnected and stood up. Then she spent a few minutes stretching her muscles, using her yoga techniques to help her relax. It was important for her to stay focused on work. She needed to speak with Ryan to see what he knew about Dunkelzahn's death, not for any other reason.

Then why am I so worried about him? she thought. Why can't I stop thinking about him, despite all this work I have?

The answer came to her mind and she tried to ignore it. But she couldn't, and it hovered inside her, filling her. Making her body tremble. The simple, undeniable truth of it left her weak. She put her head in her hands, feeling tears well in her eyes.

/ love him.

He rolled on a hard mattress, sheets burning rough against his wounded skin, and dreamed of his past.

A pinpoint of light pricked into existence off to his left. He floated in a current of dark silk, twisting and arching against the delicate flow of sublime fabric. The pinpoint grew as he approached it. Or it approached him. He couldn't tell which.

The light overtook him in silence and inexorable serenity. And when it did, it brought a memory with it…

The sensory details of the room crashed down on him. His head was on fire, the nerve endings on his scalp and neck screamed. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth to his chin, the iron tang of it sharp on his tongue. He realized then that he couldn't move, his hands and feet were bound, tied to a wooden chair. His wrists burned from the tight restraints. His muscles ached as though he'd been beaten.

The room around him smelled musty, its ancient, blue carpeting showing a grayish-white diamond pattern. Smelled old. Or maybe that was the floor-to-ceiling curtains, same dark blue, but solid except for the black stains along the top and bottom.

What is this place? Why am I here?

Who am I?

The room was very dark, lit only by a flashlight in the hand of one of the people standing around him. He could see their heat patterns in the dark, three of them-one troll woman, huge in her red robes covered with arcane symbols; one human woman with runic scars over her white skin; and the other… seemingly a bearded human man, but there was something off about him. Something blank, like cyberware from astral space. But it wasn't cyberware.

He couldn't remember their names, though he was certain

that he should. Especially the strange one; he knew that one. In the dark, he couldn't make out the man's features; shadows seemed to darken around him. The rest of the room was filled with old tables and chairs in various stages of disuse and decay. Like an ancient restaurant or buffet. He caught the dusty reflection of a huge fish tank on his left, long since dry.

"Basta ya," said the troll, the twisted single horn on her head touching the ceiling as she stood. "I've gotten all I can from him."

"Mr. T.W. Saint John," said the other woman, "was acquired from Fuchi four months ago. We paid handsomely to get his inside knowledge. He's been working on the artificial mage project at HQ in Tenochtitlan. Three days ago, he went on a temporary transfer to San Antonio. We found his company car a kilometer from here.

"But my mind scan reveals that his name is Ryan Mercury. His DNA and retinal data must have been tweaked to the Saint John identity."

Ryan Mercury? T.W. Saint John? The names meant nothing to him.

"What else?" asked the bearded man.

"Nada. His mind is blank as though he is resisting, but that's not possible. He hasn't the strength."