Anthology - From the Street

My body jerked once as my mind returned. The girl was looking at me again, as though to ask what was next. I stepped forward, took her hand, and led her away.

We moved down the ramp a few levels. Halfway to our destination, I paused at the sight of a corporate cowboy whose clothes bore the symbol of the Saeder-Krupp dragon and the German flag hologo. The coincidence gave me pause, but I shook off the thought that the woman I was to meet had brought others along. It wasn't at all unusual to see people wearing the popular dragon-logo design. Besides, the woman knew too little of my motives or my knowledge at this point. She was both crafty and powerful, but I had been careful to keep her guessing. "Know your enemy and then use that knowledge against him" was one of the mottos of her following. All she knew about me was what I wanted her to know-or so I hoped. Too bad I knew even less about her. Ignoring another questioning glance from my companion, I guided her on.

Reaching the sixth level, we went over to the nearest bar and I signaled the barkeep. Feeling the girl move gently against me, I looked into her eyes.

Her gaze dipped and rose. Beneath the slightly glowing tint, her eyes were royal blue. "My name's Karyn," she said, "with a 'y'."

I smiled. "No it's not."

She blinked twice and the Elf wiped the area in front of us, leaning in. Tallin pitched his voice to me alone, speaking in clear, unaccented Russian. "Greetings, my friend. How is the Art?"

I replied in the same tongue, though I was definitely rusty. "Harried, as usual."

"A man named Shavan is waiting for you in Hell."

"A man?"

He shrugged. "Figure of speech."

"So ka. Give me the usual, and a Firedrake for my friend." I pulled my credstick from its wrist-sheath, but the Elf waved it away.

His words were in English as he moved down the bar. "Taken care of, my man," he said. "The Inferno still owes you." I returned the stick to its sheath. Dante's debt to me would be repaid with interest tonight.

The crowd roared and a glare of hard, colorless light cut the room. I'd seen this act before and figured the lead singer had just lit a small piece of NightLight and was gleefully trying to shove it down someone's throat. Ah, art.

The girl pressed against me again, her hand lying casually on my thigh. "Nice line," she said, dropping the timbre of her voice. "I almost believed you did know. Just for a second."

This time I didn't smile. "You're still not sure." Our drinks arrived as I spoke, making her gape in surprise at the Firedrake. I shot down my Blind Reaper and touched her arm.

"That's your favorite drink." She looked up at me, eyes still wide. "And your name is not Karyn, with a 'y.' And you're not from anywhere near here." Now fear also swam in her eyes. "But no matter," I told her. "Tonight, you're with me."

I brought her hand up to my face, gently kissed her palm, and then closed it. "I have business. It may take some time, but I want you to hold something for me." Power danced quietly behind my eyes and she gasped. She'd felt the change.

Her hand opened slowly and a jumble of brilliant red silk unfolded, forming first a flower, and then falling open in a drape that covered her hand. I gathered it up and tied the flare of color around her throat. She touched it and stared at me, an odd glistening showing through her corneal tint. The corner of her mouth twitched slightly.

"You can give it back to me later." My voice was low, barely audible, and she strained forward to hear me.

She'd felt the silk appear in her hands, but wasn't sure if I'd used bar- stool sorcery or the real thing to put it there. She'd think about it, and then think about it some more, and then want to know. Later, I'd let her.

Brushing her cheek and then her hair, I moved away without looking back. If my business went well, I would be alive enough afterward to need a place for disappearing. If I'd read her right, the girl was the bored daughter of some equally bored ultrasilk-suit type. Tired of the macro-glass scene, she'd become enraptured by the rhythm and color of the streets, but remained blind to its workings. Too frightened of being rejected for her real identity, she'd gandered herself up the way they did in the vids. By following the templates to the letter, she'd given herself away.

The quadruple ramps spiraled downward around the outer edge of the club, mimicking the gene-spiral quite nicely. Deeper and deeper into corruption I walked as each level mimicked the names and places of Dante's nightmare: the author's and the owner's. I ignored the screams and other sounds, preparing myself as I descended.

Below the lowest dance floor, down a short, winding ramp, was Hell. No sign marked its location. You had to know it was there. Flanking its entrance were a pair of lightly clad androgynous figures who watched every step of my approach with a near-feverish interest. I stuck my hands in my pockets, and the twins twitched. I flashed them a grin.

"Shavan is waiting for me."

The one on the left nodded as the one on the right spoke. "Indeed," it said in a tone of menace. "You are expected." The bodies of the twins were perfect, scarless, some say the best ever made in Chiba. I doubted it, but not that they were the perfect guards for Hell.

Flash the fat credstick and you could rent Hell and be assured of complete privacy. It was swept magically and electronically before and after every meeting. Once the participants were inside, no one else got in. No spirit-eavesdropping here. The astral shield prevented that. No way in through the higher plane, either, which was exactly what Shavan would be counting on.

Hell's designers had been kind enough to include a sizable foyer just inside the doors to allow a moment of preparation. Unfortunately, there were few spells I could raise and maintain that she wouldn't detect. Keeping her calm until just the right moment would be the key to my walking away from this meet. I checked my gear once and then dropped down into a lotus position on the floor. The rhythm of my pulse released me and I gave the shield lattice and the area a quick astral once-over. Everything was quiet, but it was still early. My senses returned and I prepared myself.

Shavan was an enigma. As the head of the policlub known as The Revenants, she wielded great power. Little was known about her, and less than a handful had ever actually met her. The only description I'd ever heard was that she was apparently of Nordic descent, but in this day and age, only a DNA-marker test could tell it for sure. She was a powerful sorceress and had relied on that to conceal her trip to Seattle. She needed to speak to someone, and that someone was not about to come to her. What she hadn't counted on was that a good friend of mine knew how to look better than she knew how to hide.

Shavan had been surprised that I'd known she was in Seattle, let alone where to find her. She'd thought her business was deep in the shadows. That was her first mistake. Her second was believing that what I'd offered her was genuine.

I'd chosen the meeting place, one known for its security, and she'd chosen the time. My only security was her word that she'd be there, and that was enough. We both had reputations to live up to.

I stepped through the inner doors to find her waiting for me, according to plan. I was late.

"Alexander," she said, a slightly wicked smile crossing her face, "fancy meeting you here."

The sight of her was so different than what I'd expected that I scanned the room to hide my surprise. The room and its accessories were pure white, in startling contrast to the woman. Everything about Shavan was dark. Her clothes, her skin, her eyes, even her voice.

She laughed. "I believe this is yours." Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a ball of bright red silk and let it drop gently onto one of the sofas.