Keri Arthur - Fireborn

“That was tried. It ended very badly.” He swung off the freeway and onto Footscray Road. We were obviously going to my apartment rather than PIT headquarters. “Fifty men dead, another twenty infected, most of those now also dead.”

I stared at him. “How in the hell did you keep a toll like that secret?”

“We didn’t. Remember the reports of the two Chinook helicopters crash-landing during secret maneuvers?”

“That was a cover story?”

“Afraid so.”

“But surely to god someone in Brooklyn witnessed what happened. I mean, it’s not only the red cloaks who hide there, but all sorts of thieves and felons. How could the story of so many deaths not get out?”

“Thieves and felons are thin on the ground in certain parts of Brooklyn these days. Most of them have gotten the hell out of the sections the red cloaks control.”

I hesitated, then said, “Is that when your brother was killed? During the military raid?”

“No. As I said, Luke was one of the first people killed by a red cloak. The military were sent in not long after that.”

Again the edge of anger and guilt ran through his voice. “Was the scientist at work when the virus took full effect?”

“Yeah. He was working in one of the solo labs at the time, so no one noticed the changes until it was too late.”

“And are you sure he’s dead? Is it possible he’s the hive leader?”

“No. He was riddled with bullets. Even if he could have survived the body shots, his brains were splattered all across the pavement. There was nothing left, and certainly no chance of any sort of rebirth.”

“So the virus is capable of rebooting its host in much the same manner as a vampire’s body is rebooted?”

“We had been hoping it wasn’t possible, but your boss walking out this evening suggests otherwise.” His expression was grim. “Future victims will have to be burned immediately after their deaths, it seems.”

I scrubbed a hand across my eyes. “So what happens with Baltimore? Are you even going after him, given what happened to both the scientist and the military?”

“We’re planning to try.”

“God, be careful, Sam. I’d hate to have to come and rescue you again.”

He snorted softly. “Thanks, Red, but next time you might be better leaving it in the hands of fate.”

“Sorry. I’ve tried to do that over the years, but I just can’t seem to stop sticking my nose into fate’s business.” Especially when fate was sticking her claws into someone I’d once cared about.

Someone I still cared about, despite every mean and nasty thing he’d said and done.

The whole trouble was, the man I’d loved wasn’t gone. He’d just been buried very deep—at least where I was concerned.

“Or anyone else’s, for that matter,” he noted, voice dry.

I half smiled. “What happens next? Do you have to run off and join the hunt?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Baltimore has been tracked to Brooklyn, and there are only a few of us capable of hunting within that place.”

“What about the notebook?”

“We find it. That’s a priority right now. The hunt for Baltimore won’t start until dusk anyway.”

I frowned. “But that gives him time to find a hideout or join up with the rest of the crazies.”

“That’s presuming he is crazy. I actually suspect he might be one of the second-tier survivors.”

“Why?”

“Because he’d be of little use to whoever is behind the hive if he were a mindless worker. For whatever reason, it appears the red cloaks are as desperate to get their hands on the cure as the sindicati. Why else would they have turned the head scientist of both labs involved?”

“It’s not that surprising,” I replied. “I mean, surely even the second-tier survivors must fear an eventual descent into madness?”

“It is certainly an ever-present threat.” He glanced at me. “Survivors have told us it’s like a black curtain they constantly have to push back.”

“Have you got any survivors working at PIT?”

He hesitated. “We have people who were attacked. Whether all those who survived are still working, I couldn’t say.”

“If they are, isn’t that a risk, given what you said about the black curtain?”

“No, because all our survivors are tagged and tracked. If they go off the reservation—in any way—they’re killed.”

I blinked. PIT didn’t seem to hold a lot of belief in the sanctity of human life. “How, if they’re off the so-called reservation?”

“It’s done via a form of suicide pill that can be activated remotely. Every survivor has one implanted. They stray, and they’re dead.”

“Nasty.”

“But better than killing survivors outright.”

I guess. I studied the road ahead and realized we were close to my apartment. And that Sam was intent on coming in with me.

I took a deep breath and slowly released it. “You should wait in the car while I go search for the notebook.”

“Why? So you can run off with it?”

“Sam, I promise—”

“And we both know how much weight your promises hold, don’t we?”

It took every ounce of strength I had not to bite back, not to give in to all the anger and hurt that surged at his words. “When we split,” I said, voice even, “I sold or burned every single thing that reminded me of you and our time together. Everything . Even the damn ring you gave me.”

“That was my mother’s—”

“And now it’s a lump of metal sitting at the bottom of a rubbish dump somewhere. As I’ve already said, I was a little pissed off.” And really not thinking with all that much clarity. If I had been, I probably wouldn’t have melted the ring, because I knew it had been in his family a long time. “I was determined to start fresh, and I have. I don’t want you in my apartment, Sam.”

“In case it’s escaped your memory, I’ve already been in your apartment.”

“Yes, but I stayed outside. Big difference.”

He snorted. “If there’s any sort of logic in that statement, then I’m not seeing it.”

No, he wouldn’t. But then, he wasn’t the one who’d see him surrounded by my things. Who’d later have to touch the same items he’d touched. Who’d once again see him in the room every time I closed my eyes. I’d freed myself from that sort of anguish when we’d moved. I didn’t want to return to it, even if Sam was doing nothing more than helping me search for the missing notebook.

“You can wait outside the door if you like. There’s only one exit—”

“Bullshit,” he cut in. “You have a patio. And even I know phoenixes can take winged form.”

“Yeah, but it’s the middle of the day and there’s a pervert in the opposite building who constantly has his telescope trained on our building in the hope of catching nakedness. I’m not about to out myself as something more than human to him or anyone else. Not for the sake of a damn notebook.”

“Look, I have no desire to invade your privacy any more than necessary, but I will not—”

“I’ll keep the door open,” I said. “Or you can go in and search. Either way, there is no way known you and I are going to be in that apartment at the same time. I couldn’t take it.”

“The woman I”—he hesitated, looking away briefly before adding—“once loved is stronger than that. Besides, memories aren’t deadly.”

“Unless you have too many of them.”

And I did. Many lifetimes’ worth, in fact. It never got any easier to ignore them. Starting afresh, in a place that held none, was the only way I’d learned to cope with lifetime after lifetime of disappointments and heartache. I liked where we were currently living. I didn’t want to have to move just yet.