Cage had drawn the drapes tightly, but he couldn’t sleep. So he’d decided to lie on the couch, smoke cigarettes, and watch the sun move slowly across the sky while Phoebe slept. He pulled the smoldering end of his last cigarette from his lips and crushed it out in the palm of his hand. He was so used to it at this point that he barely flinched, though he could smell his skin burning under the red-hot ember. One of the perks of living on Earth, you could still smoke.
After his minor altercation with Phoebe, she’d hobbled upstairs in a huff and slammed the door behind her. That wasn’t a new reaction. Corinne had frequently stormed out of the room and slammed the door. Usually after he’d lost his temper and said some things he shouldn’t.
So many things about Phoe reminded him of Corinne. She had also been bookish and shy with a quiet disposition that was so unlike him. Corinne would let him talk endlessly until he got it all out, nodding and smiling in the right places. When he was angry, she could calm him with a whispered “hush now,” and a delicate hand on his arm.
They weren’t supposed to have been together. Men in his position, operatives, weren’t supposed to have families. It saved everyone a lot of heartache. Cage was gone for months at a time with no contact, committing unspeakable acts on behalf of king and country. Things he would never talk about. Things if he’d had to admit them in front of his wife, he’d be ashamed.
He supposed she had drawn her own conclusions. But, through it all, when he returned, Corinne would be there. Waiting like some lonely, restless spirit. The night she died, he’d been on his way home to tell her that he was done, finished with his life as an operative.
Their child had been born the year before, and the two of them had fought endlessly about him giving up a life of danger to escape into a life of normalcy with his family. A life where she didn’t have to wait every night for a phone call saying that he had been killed. Or worse, no phone call at all.
Cage exhaled, blowing smoke slowly between his lips and watching the misty plume rise in the dim dusty light. It was nearly sunset and he’d have to wake Phoe. He could hear her tossing and turning in the broken-down bed upstairs.
Every now and then he’d heard her get out of bed and pad across the creaky planks, but a couple of hours ago she’d gone quiet. Though her sleep was troubled, it was sleep. She needed it.
They were a few hours’ walk from the nearest town that would have transportation, and her ankle wasn’t going to help matters. If they were lucky, perhaps someone would drive by and offer a ride.
They needed to get moving. Mercer was not a place one wanted to stay. It had been one of the first casualties of The Others and there was no telling what sort of creatures remained. He didn’t have time to waste on this little side trip. Every step he took with Phoe was a step away from being free.
His client, Wilder, had promised to deliver the cure for his condition when he brought back the vampire Dagger’s head. On their last phone call, Cage had asked Wilder if that was figurative, and the old man had just laughed and hung up. The offer was time sensitive and Cage was running out of time.
The small bronze medallion sat on the dingy coffee table beside the couch. Phoebe had forgotten to take it with her when she stormed up the stairs. Evidently she trusted him enough to leave it within his reach. Or perhaps she wished he would take it from her.
She’d have to be some kind of psychic rock not to feel the vibe coming off that thing. He stretched out, taking the necklace in his fingers and dangling it in front of his face. The strange jewel had a smoky look about it, and it didn’t sparkle like other gems did. The whole thing felt heavy, much too heavy for a normal pendant.
The enigmatic markings that adorned the face had been carved with some craft that was definitely not of this world. A little voice in the back of his mind whispered that he should drop the damn thing, take the bird to the spaceport and get on with his own predicament.
Unfortunately, things were never that simple. He found himself caring for her. Ugh. That left such a terrible taste in his mouth.
Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed his mobile eSlate. Holding up the necklace, he took a number of photographs, zooming in on the weird symbols. When he finished, he brought up the keypad and dialed Oliver’s number. If anyone would have some information, it would be Oliver.
“Hello?”
“Ol, it’s Cage.”
There was silence on the other end of the line then Oliver’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Macijah. What the hell are you up to?”
“What?”
“It is all over the fucking news. Did you kill three government agents and take some chick hostage?”
“I didn’t take anyone hostage.”
“And the agents?”
He paused, considering his answer carefully. “They had it coming.”
“What in God’s name is wrong with you?” Cage had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Ollie always overreacted and was constantly scolding Cage for some misadventure. “You can’t just go around doing whatever you like, tearing up trains and taking librarians prisoner.”
“They started it. And I didn’t take anyone prisoner. They tried to kill the librarian. Look, I don’t really have time to explain all of this, but I need your help.”
“Help? Do you have any idea how much shit you’ve gotten yourself into? That librarian is not just anybody. Her sister works for the IU, and she apparently stole some heavy, top-secret artifact. Everyone on two planets is looking for you. Hell, Jesus is looking for you at this point. If anyone got wind that I was even on the phone with you, they’d string me up and use my balls for a piñata. The police have already been here, Cage.”
“I have the artifact. I need you to look at it and tell me what it is.”
“Not until you tell me what the hell you’re up to.”
“There’s no time. Please, Ol. I think this girl has stumbled onto something dangerous, but I can’t be sure. I need you to take a look. I’m going to send you some pictures of symbols. I think it’s Sin’khari, but I can’t be sure. I need you to decipher them for me.”
“Cage, you know I’m not a linguist, and even if I was, that isn’t exactly an easy translate.”
“A smart guy like you? I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He hung up before Oliver could respond then sent the photos. Now all there was to do was wait.
A rat skittered across the floor. Cage could see it moving in the shadows out of the corner of his eye. It darted this way and that. It could smell that there was something in the room with it, and it moved with that peculiar, erratic stealth particular to small prey. Cage’s stomach turned at the thought of feeding on such a creature, but his flask had long since run dry, and without some kind of sustenance he’d never last through the night.
What an awkward dénouement to their story if the hero suddenly ate the heroine.
Slowly the tiny rodent made its way toward the couch. Cage lay still on his back, barely breathing as he watched it. Phoebe had left some cracker crumbs on the couch. Her messiness worked in his favor, and before long the rat was moving closer, picking up the tiny, salty particles and stuffing them into its cheeks. The little thing made a chittering sound as it moved closer.
It wasn’t very big, but it didn’t need to be. One good mouthful would sustain Cage for a few hours until they could reach better prey. His mouth watered, and he was disgusted by his own bloodlust. The thought that he would drink from this tiny, filthy creature that he wouldn’t normally even touch was enough to make the back of his throat burn with acidic bile, but there was nothing for it.
In a flash his hand shot out, and he grabbed it, pinching its head gently between his fingers. It squirmed and tried to bite him at first but it didn’t have much time to protest. He felt the ache at the corners of his jaw and then a piercing as his canines elongated, breaking through the gum line. He lifted the wriggling animal to his mouth and sank his teeth into the plump belly. At first the taste sickened him, and he almost tossed it aside, but once the blood began to flow, thinned by his venom, it tasted just like everyone else’s.
“What are you doing?” Cage tossed the corpse aside and sat up. Phoebe stood on the stairs, horror evident on her face even in the failing light.
“Feeding,” he replied. Looking down, he noticed that he had dripped blood on his chest, and his hands were smeared. “I was hungry.” He stood then walked toward her. She backed up the stairs, her eyes taking on the familiar hunted look he’d come to associate with prey.
He didn’t like her looking at him that way. He didn’t like that he cared one way or the other how she looked at him. “Look, I’m not going to hurt you. It was just a rat.” His cheeks felt hot, but that was ridiculous. It must be the fact that he’d resorted to drinking the blood of rodents that embarrassed him.
“You have to drink blood?”
“Unfortunately.” He grinned, showing the elongated canine. “But you have my word, Phoe. I won’t hurt you.” Reaching out, he touched her hand, and she shied away.
“Don’t touch me.” Now she looked a little embarrassed. “I mean, your hands. They’re all bloody.”
“Sorry.” He grabbed the sweater he’d discarded earlier and wiped his hands clean.
“No,” she said through clenched teeth. “No, don’t be sorry. I’m having a difficult time getting used to this, that’s all.”
“Well, sadly, we don’t have much time for you to get used to it. The sun’s gone down, and it’s time to move again.” He pulled a close-fitting black tee-shirt over his head and smoothed his hair back.
She didn’t say anything else, but she began gathering her things. Neither of them brought up their earlier argument, but it hung like an oppressive fog over the room.
He pulled the medallion from his pocket and handed it to her. “You left this on the table.”
“Thank you,” she said, avoiding his gaze.
Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. He could tell she had been crying. He wanted to say something, to apologize for being so harsh, but the words wouldn’t come. Cage had never been one to apologize, even before he had changed. He tended to react quickly and with more poison than he intended.
“How can we be sure that those things won’t come back?” she asked.
“We can’t. Though I suppose it may comfort you to know that those particular things won’t be coming back.” He pulled out his eSlate and typed furiously on the keypad. “But we have to be careful. Apparently our escapades have attracted some attention.”
“What do you mean?”
“According to the press, I killed three government agents and have taken you hostage.” The story popped up above the slate, and he showed her the article. She flipped through quickly, her eyes getting larger with each panel.
“How do they know these things? It tells where I live, my work.” She stared up at Cage, handing the mobile back. “They know everything. They’ve told everything. They even interviewed my friends. Well, coworkers.” She shrugged. “I don’t really have many friends. Just my sister.” She tried to smile, but melancholy painted her lovely face. “So do you think they’ll be able to find us?”
“I wouldn’t worry too much,” he replied, shouldering his bag. “I’m pretty good at disappearing.”
* * *
Derek Machine had never been one to leave loose ends hanging. He’d learned that loose ends came back to bite one in the proverbial ass. Far too many loose ends had been getting in his way lately. Like when he hired Jessica Addison, he believed she would be working for him, not against him. Now she knew too much and was keeping him from his goal. Another loose end.
He stared out at the Martian landscape, seeing all he had achieved stretching out into the distance. Skeletons of skyscrapers yet to be built. Expensive residential areas, hotels, places where the super-rich could spend their money and have every sick whim catered to for the right price. A whole new civilization that would worship him as their personal savior. That medallion was the final piece of this puzzle, and he’d be damned if that overgrown girl scout and her idiot sister were going to get in his way.
“I’ve heard from the girl, Derek.” Machine looked up from his eSlate, seemingly unbothered by the frantic bark of Dr. Oliver Manning, who was bursting through the door of his study despite the heavily armed were that stood guard. The man started to tackle the doctor but was called off with a wave of Machine’s hand. He was a good dog, that one.
“Well, spit it out then,” he sighed. “What news was so urgent that you’ve interrupted my one moment of peace?”
“The girl, she has the medallion…”
“Well, we knew that,” Machine growled. “That was the point of all this threatening.”
“But there have been complications.”
“What sort of complications?”
“It’s the most ridiculous coincidence, really,” Manning stammered.
“Where is she?”
“Somewhere in Oklahoma.”
“How the hell did she get to Oklahoma?” Machine shouted, slamming his fist down on to the table so hard that his untouched glass of wine tipped over. “She was told to go to the spaceport in Canaveral.”
“All of our intelligence so far indicates that she got on the wrong train. Most likely she was set on the wrong path by the IU so that they could intercept the medallion before she made it this far. The good news, she managed to escape from them.”
“How did she do that, I wonder?” Machine purred.
Manning paused as if considering his next words carefully. “Perhaps the IU let her get away. Thinking she would lead them to the portal. Or us. It’s the only explanation for the ease of her escape. The news on the planet is reporting that she’s been kidnapped.”
“The IU is covering their tracks.” Machine sighed. Stupid girl. He wasn’t sure if Jessica Addison was brilliant or a fool for sending that medallion back to Earth and her idiot sister. It was impossible to imagine one so intelligent could be related to a functional moron. “And how did you come by this information, Doctor?”
“One of the IU agents is a friend. I told him you would pay handsomely for any information.”
“Who is this friend?”
“He asked to remain anonymous.” Machine snorted. “He’s an IU agent working for the Americans. They’d kill him if they knew he was leaking secrets.”
Machine nodded. “Of course they would. Once a person outlives their usefulness, sweeping them under the rug is the only way to protect one’s interests, I suppose.” He looked pointedly at Manning. “So where is she now? I need an exact location, Doctor.” He gestured toward the goon in the doorway.
“Go ahead and rough me up,” Manning said, cringing as the large man placed a meaty hand heavily on his shoulder. “I can’t give up information I don’t have.”
“Perhaps your sister can help.”
“Leave Eve out of this.”
“I’d love to. But she has a way of sticking her adorable little nose in where it doesn’t belong.” Machine sighed and waved his goons over, who grabbed Manning by the arms and ushered him out the door.