After the blonde was gone, Clare raised a hand toward Anselm. “I know you’re having a cow about fucking around with vampires.” His expression was blank, but she felt the judgment radiating from him. “You have to work with me, and I’m going to work with vampires. Time for you to get used to a diverse group of people around here. That means my family of werewolves and the vampires I deal with, understood?”

  “Right. We’re getting to the point where I’m a super-annoying person to argue with.”

  Clare grinned. As annoying as he could be, he was also fun. She pulled her comm out and connected it to her personal servers before the argument could continue.

  “Anyway.” She cleared her throat. “I have feelers out around the city. Nothing like the networks other people have, but if someone’s spending that much money on mercs, someone else might know where that money’s coming from. Nobody throws money around without making waves. And if they’re not…” Her voice trailed off suggestively.

  “You think it’s someone from the cities up top?” Anselm shrugged agreeably. “It’s a solid theory. It’ll be a long time before we can dig through the possibilities, and you’re right. We should eliminate the most likely suspects. Those down here.”

  “Oh, my.” Clare raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting the pure and perfect humans up there wouldn’t stoop so low as to commit murder?”

  “Don’t be like that.”

  “Like what?”

  He sighed and placed his empty mug on the table next to the couch. “You know my opinion. A were or vampire would have many reasons to want either of us dead, and not only because they don’t want the city to survive. They could have found the embed and offered her something to turn on us. Perhaps they have a human helping them.”

  “That’s it?” Clare rolled her eyes. “Blame the mutes. Is that the only possible explanation? It couldn’t ever be your holier-than-thou humans.”

  Anselm had a hot reply on his tongue, but he sat back and visibly calmed himself. She wished she knew how to do that. A few red tinges vanished from his face. In the blink of an eye, he was calm again.

  “Probably not the best time to have this discussion.” He nodded as if agreeing with himself. “We’ll follow your example and take on the next thing that comes our way. In this case, we should probably find the embed. Then we can find who paid her to disable the shuttle and the communications.”

  He was annoying to argue with. Something to bring up again later, after they’d moved past how he’d already brought it up himself.

  “Okay,” Clare replied. “Small point, though. Nothing against you and your abilities, which are impressive, but you stick out like a sore thumb on the ground.”

  “Really?” Anselm scratched his beard again. “I thought I was doing well at roughening my edges.”

  “You’re doing a decent job, but it’d be another month of living down here before you look like you’ve done it all your life. I picked you out the moment I saw you. The embed will be looking for you, assuming she’s alive or around. If she heard we survived the crash, she probably jumped the next illegal shuttle out of town.”

  Anselm frowned. “I doubt it. Whoever put her up to turning on us will expect her to continue helping while we’re alive. She can’t afford to run away at this point. One word from me about her betrayal, and the NAC will scour the earth for her.”

  “Really? For one embed?”

  “They reward loyalty and match it with punishments for betrayal. I’ve never been party to any of the hunts for embeds, but most of the work adjudicators do down here is hounding them and making sure they meet a gruesome end. I’ve seen reports of how those punishments are meted out. No, she’ll stick around to make sure I’m dead.”

  “Okay.” Clare didn’t want to think about what an adjudicator considered gruesome. Gruesome deaths happened across New Houston every day. He would have known that. “If we’re going to have a chance at finding someone in a city of eighty million people, you’ll have to lean on those with the right capabilities. Resources, teams, and underground operatives who can network and find her in a day.”

  “You’re going to tell me Aldonado is that guy?” Anselm chuckled.

  “Hey, if you want to get your hands on that sneaky bitch, you have to trust resources on the ground. Especially since she was your resource on the ground.”

  “All right.” Anselm raised his hands in surrender. “I get it. I’ll work with whoever you think is best. I’ll be polite and respectful. I’ve restocked my firearm mags, and I’ve got enough deadwood rounds to wipe the city clean of fangs if I have to.”

  “I guess that’s your prerogative.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  He didn’t like it, but Clare was right. He could pine for resources he trusted, but he’d settle for what was available, regardless of his hang-ups.

  He could try the bronze ring network again, but he held off on that for a couple of reasons. First, the compromised embed was part of that network. The moment he raised a flag, she’d know where he was. She could relay that information to the people who wanted them dead.

  The second reason was he didn’t know who else had been compromised. While he wanted to relax behind a desk after he got back to his regular line of work, a night of thinking about it revealed he was more likely to make a recommendation to clear out the ranks of their brass ring operatives.

  He’d been lucky to survive one betraying them. If more moles were in there, he could purge them and make it safe for adjudicators to operate on the ground again. Assuming he made it back up. Anselm had never been one for numbers, but he put his odds of reaching Summerland at less than forty percent.

  Clare’s odds were better because people seemed to want her alive. He was an obstacle to that.

  The day seemed to drag by, leaving him wallowing in his thoughts. Clare spent most of her time checking on what had happened while she was gone. She called it gathering intelligence, but from what he’d heard, it was mostly gossip about the city’s celebrities. The rich and the powerful.

  He settled in for the day by testing the meditation techniques he’d been taught. None of them did the trick, but they kept him from spiraling. The rest period allowed his body to recover from the beatings over the past few days. He held off on pain meds, but a few were set into his body armor’s medical processes in case he needed to jump into action quickly. The meds were designed not to be addictive, though too much use over too short a period would lead to building a tolerance.

  Best to avoid that.

  “You ready to go?”

  He opened his eyes. Nothing had changed since lunch except the sun, which had almost set, hidden by the surrounding buildings. Vamps liked living in cities because buildings provided shade from the sunlight.

  “Always.” Anselm rolled his neck and stood from the comfortable seat he’d picked out. “Any word from Rody?”

  “Not yet. He said he’d meet us when the sun went down, though. I don’t think he’ll want to be late when he’s dealing with his master’s orders.”

  Anselm sighed and nodded. “Right. How did your intelligence gathering go?”

  “Curtis sent messages to the pack, but most are on hunting trips out of comm range. They’re hunting slavers who tried to abduct neutral city folk to work in militant human-supremacist settlements in the northeast. Somewhere near Reavepoint. Doesn’t look like we’ll get word from them on who’s prowling the outer borders for a few days at least. Convenient, that.” Clare dropped into the seat next to him. “The ones in the city haven’t found much, but they’re reaching out to their contacts, seeing if they can dig shit up. It’ll also be a couple of days on that.”

  Anselm smirked. “I’m going to ask you a question again.”

  “Hey, it’s the best way for you to learn.” She grinned. “You might want to hold off on those when we meet with the elder, though. Keep it quiet and look intimidating.”

  “Right.” He cleared his throat. “How does a human end up being raised by a were family? Well, you sort of explained the how, but is there a protocol for werewolves adopting non-weres into their pack?”

  “It’s not a common tradition.” Clare leaned back and considered the question. “Some packs have been known to take non-weres on as den-mates. People who’ve earned their trust and regard.”

  “Is that what you’re considered? A den-mate?”

  “No. I’ve discussed it with them, and I’m a full member of the pack. A member of the family.” She smiled. “It’s unprecedented, but I try not to ask any questions.”

  “Right.”

  “I grew up with them. Nobody I’ve asked knows why, and I think they might pretend to be ignorant.”

  “Huh.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You got something you want to say? Spill it, man.”

  “It seems like mysteries keep depositing themselves at your feet.” Anselm rolled a round between his fingers. It was a trick he’d learned a long time ago, but he couldn’t remember who taught him. He could do it with coins, credit chits, and knives. People thought he was trying to intimidate them with it.

  “Here’s to hoping Aldonado can take a couple of them off the pile,” Clare replied.

  Not long after that, the hubbub outside announced someone new had arrived. The sun was out of sight, although they were a half hour from full sunset. Darkness fell earlier in the city.

  Rody looked prepped and fresh as ever. Likely from a hearty meal of someone’s blood, offered willingly. Anselm still didn’t understand the mindset of people selling their blood like that unless they were at the end of desperation.

  Anselm smiled and waved when they stepped out of Clare’s former fire station. He noted a distinct difference in the weres’ reaction to a vampire’s presence compared to a vamp-affiliated human.

  While Rody’s messenger had been heckled and mocked when she came in and left, Rody drew outright hostility from the werewolves. Their dislike was primal and likely not something they could control.

  They didn’t show any sign of impending violence, but they were coiled and prepared to react if Rody so much as looked at them wrong. For his part, Rody maintained a calm, cool exterior to keep them from seeing an insult and attacking. He couldn’t handle a full pack of angry weres.

  “Nice to see the two of you still alive.” Anselm caught the vamp’s eyes flickering as he spoke. He was highly aware of the pack. He seemed relaxed but would run the moment anything went wrong. “I hope you rested well,” Rody continued.

  “Not too bad, not too bad.” Clare waved the pack off. “How about you?”

  “I cannot complain. I brought a car to get us through the city faster, hopefully without being spotted. I’ve been informed there’s a security issue we should keep an eye out for.”

  “You can say that again.” Clare motioned for Anselm to follow her.

  He felt Curtis’ glare on the back of his neck, but the pack leader didn’t step in to stop them. He likely could if he wanted to. Most leaders ruled their packs with an iron fist. Curtis seemed different, lax and looser with the rules, but his pack would jump if he gave the word.

  He didn’t. They followed Rody to a black sedan idling in wait for them. Anselm would have suggested using two others as decoys and taking the passengers on at a covered, secure location. Maybe vampires didn’t deal with threats to the point where they knew how to handle them appropriately.

  That concept was one of the first advanced courses he’d taken after he graduated from the Academy. Security details were the best assignments a young adjudicator could get. Easy work that allowed for forming connections with people who could later recommend them to better positions.

  Anselm sat across from Rody and Clare. She hadn’t changed her look much, although he noted a distinct lack of grease stains on her face and hands. Smudges showed on her nails, but those required more time and effort.

  Rody looked the part of a young vampire. Better than when they were at the border, where he’d been dressed in something close to what they called greaser-chic up top. He seemed more comfortable in that attire than in the black suit he wore now.

  It seemed Aldonado was a stickler for his people’s appearance, regardless of their own preferences. Maybe he allowed them to dress as they liked on their own time but required a uniform when they represented him.

  Didn’t sound different from how human CEOs acted, but Anselm thought they were stains, too.

  “We’re going to the Astoria, aren’t we?” Clare leaned closer to the windows as they approached the city’s center. “It’s the oldest building in the city. Maintained better than any other because that’s where all the rich people live.”

  Anselm smiled and nodded like he hadn’t heard that himself. Clare was excited to go into the most famous building in New Houston. It was thought to have been around when the place was simply called Houston before the Curtain came down, and the cities of the Old World were thoroughly damaged in the aftermath.

  Some buildings remained but had been left in disrepair over the years as most of humanity fled to the skies. Astoria had stuck it out to remain the pinnacle of rich living in New Houston.

  That was the story, anyway. Records from before and after the Curtain were hard to come by. When the dust settled, stories and claims could never be verified.

  Folks learned to roll with it. Far more outlandish things waited in the world than a building that survived the Curtain falling.

  Anselm narrowed his eyes when they dipped into the structure’s underground parking. People on the street had been anxious to get out of the vehicle’s way, something he’d noted didn’t happen with other vehicles around the city. That told him they knew who the car belonged to and didn’t want to anger Aldonado.

  He genuinely did want to meet the vampire. Elder vampires were hard to find and harder to pin down long enough for an adjudicator to chat with them. Now, one had invited him along with Clare. Rody didn’t know he was an adjudicator, but someone like Aldonado should have put that shit together.

  If he hadn’t already, he’d know it the moment Anselm stepped into his presence. Or maybe that was another myth about elder vampires that had never been confirmed or disproved.

  No time like the present.

  Three vamps waited for them inside the garage. None spoke so much as a word or looked in Rody’s direction. Clare submitted herself to a search, but they were stopped when they reached Anselm.

  “I don’t know if vamps can regenerate limbs, but unless you want to try growing a new hand, you’re going to keep it to yourself.” He kept his voice calm. The vamp paused and finally looked at Rody, who laughed.

  “Unlike most humans, he can deliver on that threat. It’ll be fine.”

  None of them looked convinced, but they knew better than to argue the point with Rody. They were older than him, but he still held a position of authority. All three backed off and allowed Anselm, Clare, and Rody into the elevator. It climbed toward the penthouse without pausing at any other floors.

  “Anything we should know about before we walk in on the elder vampire?” Clare asked after a full minute of uncomfortable silence. “Don’t want to accidentally insult him or anything.”

  “You’ve met him once before.” Rody shrugged. “It shouldn’t be different now.”

  “That was in a bar. Not the formal event we’re walking into now.” Clare pushed bright red hair out of her face. “Besides, we’re talking about one conversation where he told me I should have left you to suffer the consequences of your drinking habits.”

  “He said what?”

  Clare raised an eyebrow and nudged Anselm’s ribs. It seemed like the humor to be considered when they were stuck in an elevator with a powerful vampire. It didn’t surprise him that an elder vampire wanted his get to experience the full consequences of his mistakes. If Clare had helped him out of the problems he’d gotten himself into, it made sense Rody would owe her. But the elder wouldn’t like it. Or her.

  The elevator dinged softly to tell them they’d arrived. The penthouse had an antique look that didn’t match the building.

  “It’s so white,” Clare muttered. “You’d think a vampire lord would want things darker around their home.”

  “Now who’s prejudiced?” Anselm smirked, then grunted when she jabbed his ribs with her elbow again.

  “Do things look like this in the sky cities?”

  He shook his head. “White marble isn’t fashionable up there. I’d say it’s an attempt to replicate what was in fashion back when the building was first built. Although those window shades are automated, and I assume they’re shielded against UV rays.”

  “Something you’d see in any vampire’s home these days. Those who can afford it, anyway.”

  Clare jumped at the voice to their left. Anselm knew better than to show his surprise, even if he hadn’t seen the vampire there a second ago. He assumed the move was meant to intimidate them. Or maybe the vamp didn’t bother hiding his abilities in his home.

  He was shorter than Anselm thought and had a deceptively youthful appearance. It was difficult to fake those eyes, although Anselm suspected that was his imagination. People said eyes were the doorways to the soul, but he didn’t believe it.

  Aside from that, Aldonado didn’t look like much. Light greenish-brown eyes, black hair in a short and stylish cut, and casual dress that spoke to the sheer wealth he commanded without screaming it.

  The vamp was getting in his head. Anselm forced a smile and let Clare greet him first.

  “Aldonado, good to see you again.” She grinned.

  “Can I offer you a drink?” Aldonado was already pouring an amber-colored liquid from a crystal decanter. “I need to kick my love for good scotch, but it’s enough of a rarity that you can make a lot of money from a single bottle. I founded my distillery in Scotland for the sake of maintaining formality and ensured it was the only one to properly sell the drink. I keep a few casks handy to entertain my human guests. It doesn’t make sense for a human’s blood to assimilate the taste of the whiskey, but somehow I taste it after they’ve drunk my spirits.”