Chapter One
My first real memory of my parents was also my last.
It was the refrigerator’s fault I remembered. I should’ve known
better than to expect new appliances in my new apartment; I was lucky to have
appliances at all. I sure as hell couldn’t afford to buy new ones.
The refrigerator, however, was a problem. Every time I looked at it,
I remembered—and my first memory of my parents was how I, Alexa Zoe Daegberht,
had killed them with a wish.
It was the same refrigerator, right down to its smoke-stained,
pebbled surface and its loose handle. The years hadn’t done the damned thing
any favors, and I wondered if the door would fall off its hinges when I opened
it. Then again, they had built things better when I had been a child.
It was too bad I hadn’t been built a bit better. A lot of things
would have been different. It wasn’t my father’s fault no one could touch me
without irritating my sensitive skin. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t kiss my
cheek like other fathers could with their daughters.
It was his fault he had forgotten; if he hadn’t, my face wouldn’t
have been itching and burning. If he hadn’t forgotten, I wouldn’t have run to
the fridge, using it as a shield against his touch. If he hadn’t forgotten, I
wouldn’t have parroted what he too often said while fighting with my mother:
If you walk out that door, don’t you ever come
back.
Because I had believed it, had wanted it, and had prayed for it,
wishing on a shooting star that night, I had gotten exactly what I wanted. My
parents had walked out the door and left me behind, never to return.
The ocean didn’t like giving up its dead, and planes smacking into
the water didn’t leave a whole lot to salvage.
I dropped my bags on the kitchen floor, spat curses, and kicked the
refrigerator.
It won; beneath the plastic was metal, and it refused to bend. All I
did was crunch my toes, and howling, I hopped around on one foot. Through
tear-blurred eyes, I glared at the offensive appliance.
“I’ll end you,” I swore.
Maybe I could spray paint the damned thing pink; it’d be at least
four years before I earned my degree and rank as a Bach, and until then, I was
stuck with it. Once I became a Bach, I’d be elevated to a better caste—a caste
with a future, and a bright one at that. Once I was a Bach, I could afford to
buy my own appliances, and I’d never have to see that make or model of
refrigerator ever again. If I scored well enough on the exit exams, I had the
slim chance of being accepted for Master training.
I had my entire life ahead of me, and it would be a good one. There
was no way I’d let a stupid refrigerator take that from me.
I kept telling myself that, but I didn’t believe it.
I gave up and went for my last ditch resort; if macaroni and cheese
couldn’t make things better, nothing could.
I left my apartment to explore my new neighborhood and find work,
leaving behind the devil-spawned refrigerator with a week’s worth of macaroni
and cheese casserole cooling inside. If any of the other students found out I
was surviving on pasta flavored with neon-orange powder, I’d be the laughing
stock of the college.
I wanted to create the illusion of having come from somewhere other
than the poorest district in the city, and to do that, I needed money.
Merit-based students like me paid off tuition and housing in labor; I was
doomed to at least four years serving as some professor’s slave. At least I had
ranked high enough to have an apartment instead of a closet in the shared
dorms, but unlike on-campus students, I was on my own for the basics.
There was one place I knew I could find a job in a hurry: the Inner
Harbor. If I had come from any other district, if I had belonged to any other
caste, I wouldn’t have needed to turn to Kenneth Smith for work. But Kenneth
took in those others wouldn’t and made them do his dirty work.
Unfortunately for me, I was good at doing his dirty work. Sighing, I
ducked my head, adopted a brisk stride, and headed towards the water.
Baltimore was a big place, and it took me an hour to navigate my way
through the city’s heart, skirting around the fringe I had once called home. On
the surface, it was a clean, quiet place with carefully trimmed lawns, neatly
pruned trees, and flowers contained in concrete planters.
The scars of rebellion pockmarked the brick buildings, a reminder of
the violence Kenneth Smith and his cohorts had stamped out years ago, turning a
slum into the elite’s paradise.
Once upon a time, the Inner Harbor had been the entertainment
district of Baltimore, a place prone to rioting, a place everyone, no matter
what caste, could go and gamble away their money or find other pursuits, many
of them illegal. Sporting events were popular—if you could afford the entry
fee.
I couldn’t, and Kenneth Smith counted on that. He didn’t want me as a
client, anyway.
He wanted me as one of his hounds, a dog of his endless drug war,
hunting down his non-paying clients, sniffing out dirt on them, and either
luring them into one of his little traps or otherwise acquiring his money. The
method didn’t matter; the money did, and that was that.
I hated the Inner Harbor; if I had a pack of matches, I wouldn’t have
hesitated to light one up in the hope of burning the whole place to the ground.
My temper soured the closer I got to the little townhouse located where the
fringe began and the elite’s playground ended.
No one in their right mind would have believed, not even for a
moment, that Baltimore’s charming, ruthless, and despicable criminal mastermind
lived in such a dingy place, and that was exactly the way Kenneth Smith liked
it.
I knocked four times, paused, and because I was in a bad mood, I gave
the dark-painted door a solid kick, jamming my already aching toes. I didn’t
hop around as I had in my apartment.
One of Smith’s bitches didn’t do something so undignified, not in
public.
The pain I wanted; it served to focus my attention and remind me of
the misery my boss would inflict if I screwed up. Clenching my teeth to keep
quiet, I waited. I heard the thump of someone coming down the stairs, and
several moments later, the lock clicked. The door opened, and Smith’s favorite
dog answered, glaring at me through narrowed eyes.
“You again?”
I smiled at Lily because I knew it would piss her off. “What do you
know? It is! Astonishing. Can I come in, or are we going to put on a show for
everyone in the neighborhood? I didn’t dress the part. I left my lacy panties
at home.”
I didn’t own any lacy panties, but all things considered, I was going
to die a virgin anyway. A kiss on the cheek was enough to give me hives. What
would happen if someone tried to kiss me on the mouth—or do something
far more interesting with me?
I’d probably die.
Lily snarled something incomprehensible under her breath, stepping
back to let me in. “Prissy bitch.”
Blond-haired, blue-eyed, pasty-skinned Lily belonged in a doll shop,
but instead of telling her to go back to selling herself on the street like I
wanted, I asked, “Where’s the boss?”
“Down in the den. He’s with a guest. Wait in the parlor. He’ll come
for you himself, I’m sure.” Lily glared at me, slammed the door, and stomped
her way up the staircase to the second floor, leaving me to mind my own
business in the entry.
I waited by the door.
The parlor always reeked of drugs, but I had kicked my various habits
years ago. As always, the parlor made me want a hit so I could forget
everything, right down to who I was and what I had done to get by.
I had changed. I wasn’t going to let anyone forget it, myself
included.
When the boss came upstairs from the basement alone, I worried.
Waiting the hour for him to finish wasn’t unusual, but the fact he hadn’t
brought his client along meant one of two things: the client had either left
through the tunnels, a conceit of the elite, or I was about to be introduced to
them.
Nothing good happened when my boss introduced me to his clients.
Nothing good came out of meeting with Kenneth right after an audience with one
of the elite.
His fellow elite had a way of pissing him off, especially when they
thought themselves above paying back their debts.
I examined the shining hardwood, wondering if Kenneth made Lily get
on her hands and knees to polish it to perfection. I doubted it; if he had,
neither one of them would have gotten any real work done, and that would hurt
his bottom line.
“It’s not like you to come around here without a summons,” my boss
said, and his soft-spoken words warned me of trouble.
Kenneth was a lot of things, and passionate was one of them. If he
was moderating his voice, it was because he had graduated from annoyed to
murderous, and he didn’t feel like killing me today.
I should’ve been grateful for that.
“You always need another nose to the ground, sir,” I murmured,
keeping still despite my desire to fidget.
Lily really had done a stellar job with the floors. While I couldn’t
make out the details, the wood reflected my dark hair and bronzed skin. My
heritage remained a mystery, dying along with my parents.
Some folks said German because of my last name, but none of the
German-descents I knew had such bronzed skin. I rivaled an Italian, but no
self-respecting Italian I knew had a last name like mine.
I decided it was a good thing I wasn’t all that pretty. I didn’t want
to end up just like Lily, serving the boss to keep him from killing the rest of
us when he had a bad day. I had too many scars, and not all of them marked my
skin.
If he found out about my inability to handle human contact, he’d
probably enjoy knowing he could hurt me with his touch alone. When I left, I’d
have to thank Lily and offer to run errands for her. It was wise to pay back
debts, in advance whenever possible.
The silence stretched on. I gave into my restlessness, shifting my
weight from one foot to the other. My toes still throbbed from their
introduction to his door and the devil-spawned refrigerator in my apartment.
“Fine. Come on, then,” he snapped, pivoting on a heel to head back in
the direction of the basement stairwell.
I followed him, keeping my gaze fixed on his black oxfords, which had
been polished almost as shiny as his prized floors. He took the stairs two at a
time while I took the more cautious approach. With my luck, I’d snap my neck
tumbling down the steps.
“Sit,” he ordered as soon as I crossed over the threshold into his
den.
His den was larger than my apartment, although that wasn’t much of a
feat. Someone had been smoking something recently, and the fumes were strong
enough to make my nose sting. I took a cautious sniff.
Cigar smoke.
At least my standing at college wouldn’t be risked by inhaling
residue from one of Kenneth’s cocktails. If they ever found out I was one of
his associates, though, I was screwed. I relaxed and, without looking up from
his floor, made my way around the couch closest to the door and plopped down on
it. I heard him sit on his armchair, which squeaked as he leaned back.
“I’m not in the mood for your bullshit tonight, my little collie.” My
boss lit up, and the stench of his cigar choked off my breath. I knew better
than to cough, though. All I’d do was piss him off even more.
I chose to ignore the fact he was calling me by a dog breed instead
of my name and nodded my agreement. At least he hadn’t called me Lassie.
If I followed the rules, I’d be okay. I’d leave his house just
fine—and Lily wouldn’t have any extra reasons to hate me. Speaking only when
spoken to, nodding when appropriate, and always, always addressing him by sir
would get me through the meeting.
If the boss had a job for me and paid up, maybe I’d buy Lily a pair
of lace panties—in silk. I could get them now, as long as I had the cash for
them. All I had to do was survive the meeting with Kenneth and do one last job
for him.
“You’re a freshman now, aren’t you?”
Kenneth’s voice was still soft, quiet, and utterly devoid of emotion,
so I drew a deep breath, nodded my head obediently, and whispered, “Yes, sir.”
“Full-merit,” he commented, and his tone took on a rueful edge.
“Yes, sir.”
“Now how the hell did a little mutt like you get into Bach studies on
full-merit?” he demanded, thumping his fist on the arm of his chair. He smacked
it several more times before sighing gustily. “You’re something else, that’s
what you are. I obviously wasn’t keeping you busy enough. I am to blame.”
I flinched.
Whoever had been meeting with him before I had arrived had left
Kenneth in a bad mood, and his ire was directed at me. Any other day, I would
have told him to go cry a river and fill the Chesapeake. I wanted to tell him
to stuff it, but I needed the work, and he needed me.
I could go to the places he couldn’t, and he knew it.
“I studied, sir.”
“You studied. No shit, Collie. What I want to know is how you got
through the application process right under my nose without me knowing a thing
until Lily went out earlier to summon you. Your pad’s already been taken over,
if you weren’t aware.”
The vultures had likely swooped in the minute I had left, but I kept
my mouth shut. If I said a word, it would be something I’d regret. Granted, I
likely wouldn’t regret it for long, but that was a different matter entirely.
I nodded and resumed studying the floor. Lily had missed a spot, and
I’d been around Kenneth Smith long enough to recognize dried blood when I saw
it.
At least it wasn’t fresh.
“Cat’s got your tongue? Fine. Maybe for the better. You’d open your
mouth and make me want to shoot you. You’re right. I want your nose. Son of a
bitch elite backed out on his debt. He’s in Bach studies just like you. Sniff
the bastard out for me. He’s got a taste for crystals and a head for scents. He
also seems to believe he can back out on his debts to me. Get close to him,
learn his haunts, and report to me. I want to know who or what can be used
against him, where he lives, and any significant people in his life—preferably
women. Better yet, make yourself a significant woman to him. You need to
relax.”
I risked lifting my head and stared at Kenneth Smith.
It amazed me I didn’t break out in a rash just from looking at him.
In so many ways, he was an average man; not too tall, not too short, not too
anything, which conspired to make him right in all the wrong ways. My brown
eyes were too dark for any sort of warmth, while his were melted chocolate,
tempting and sensual.
Despite the annoyance of his tone, the corners of his mouth quirked
up in a smile.
I hated Kenneth Smith. Every time I saw him, I wondered what it would
be like to kiss someone. It was his damned mouth, which could flatten to a line
or curve into a ripe smile, shifting with his mood. I could always tell his
mood from the movements of his lips.
His voice said angry, but his mouth promised all of those interesting
things I couldn’t do and Lily could—and would, probably as soon as I left the
house.
“What’s his name?” I asked, reminding myself Kenneth was a dangerous,
foul man. A smart girl didn’t deal with the devil or take him to her
bedroom.
I’d already struck out once in the smart department. I’d probably
punch my own ticket if I tried anything with him. If I didn’t die from an
allergic reaction to him, he wouldn’t appreciate me throwing up on him.
Men had that effect on me.
Kenneth sighed, and I echoed him.
I wondered if he realized we were probably sighing for the same
reason. He had already slept with all of his other bitches, leaving me as the
one who always got away.
If he found out about my allergy, I’d never live it down.
“Sir?”
Silence wasn’t like Kenneth. He chomped on his cigar, grunting his
acknowledgment of my question. I waited, lowering my gaze to the floor to stare
at the brown splotch marring the hardwood.
“Terry Moore. His father runs the stadium. He got hooked six months
back, paid for three months worth of supplies, and decided he was above paying
the rest of the balance.”
I did some mental math, clucking my tongue as I ran through the
various costs of crystals and scents. Crystals appealed to those who enjoyed
tasting their drugs, slowly dissolving on the tongue, while scents came as
either incenses or other forms of inhaled narcotics. Big league players often
spend thousands a week for the good stuff.
The elite settled for nothing less.
If Terry was studying for his Bach like me, he had friends—elite
friends. Buying friendships through drugs wasn’t uncommon, especially among
those who were supposed to be too good for the trade.
“A hundred and fifty thou,” I said, straightening my back and lifting
my chin, defying my boss with my glare. “Small change for you. There’s gotta be
more to it than that. You don’t move against the elite for pennies.” I paused,
sucked in a breath as I remembered I wasn’t supposed to piss him off, and
added, “Sir.”
Kenneth’s smile widened to a grin. “Can’t let anything slip by you,
can I? You’re right. It is small change. Under normal circumstances, I’d let it
get up to at least half a mil. But, he made off with some of my new stuff, and
I want it back.”
Reaching down beside his chair, he lifted up a metal cage containing
a variety of test tubes. They were filled with a red liquid with the same
viscosity as blood. He lifted one out, sloshing it around. “Little Bachs don’t
want to get caught on the tests, so he wanted something for school-year use.
This baby doesn’t register on any of the current tests. You can dry it into a
powder. You can inject it, and you can even drink it if you want. It’s mellow
enough, long-lasting, gives one hell of a nice high, and doesn’t impair
function too much. Best of all, it doesn’t seem to cause much damage when it
wears off.”
If he was speaking the truth, he had likely found the Holy Grail of
the drug world.
“How many uses in one of those vials?”
“A few,” he evaded.
I narrowed my eyes, considered the few clues he had given me, and
shrugged. “How many vials did he make off with?”
“A dozen.”
“And you haven’t killed him yet?” I blurted.
Kenneth arched a brow at me. “He can’t pay me if he’s dead. After
he’s paid, I’ll think about it.”
I grimaced. One day I would learn to keep my mouth shut. “Get the
info and retrieve the drugs if possible. Anything else, sir?”
“I wouldn’t say no to you bringing me my money along with the info
and the drugs.”
Somehow, I kept from saying even one of the hundreds of snarky,
sarcastic comments flitting through my head. Any one of them would piss him off
even more, and there was only so far I could push him before he decided to go
for his gun. “I don’t think I can carry that much cash, sir, and I really doubt
he’ll give me his bank account details.”
“You could always sniff them out for me. You’re good at sneaking off
to places you shouldn’t go—like college.”
I scowled. “I said I would sniff, not bite, sir. Biting is Lily’s
job.”
“One of these days, Collie, you’re going to piss me off.”
I widened my eyes, raising my hand to cover my mouth. “You mean I
haven’t already?”
“Every day. Get out of here, bitch. I don’t want to see your face at
my house until you have his info and my drugs. And don’t you even think about
forgetting my money.”
I escaped while I could and risked taking the steps two at a time.
