The golden thread held an acrid note, something inimical attempting to metabolize through skin and breath. Poisoning a sanguinant was difficult indeed, most drugs and illnesses simply eaten by the Gift.
And yet mortals were endlessly inventive, and this an age of technological wonder.
The fleeing shadow made a distinct rhythmic noise to the northwest, a deceptively inelegant bee bumbling along. One of the strange aircraft with whirling blades, staying aloft through science indistinguishable from magic, wheeling due west as if chasing a sun long retreated.
Or fleeing swift-approaching dawn.
Even in mistform he might not catch up before the sun rose. Were the mortals intending murder, or something far more daring? He should have listened to their conversation, instead of refraining from politeness to his sweet Simone.
He was still holding the phone, he realized. Plumbing its secrets could wait. He slipped it into a pocket—wonderful, really, the clothing of this age was agreeably convenient in that regard—and took to the sky.
CHAPTER 21
If she focusedwhile the cramps were on an upward spike, Simone could just about taste what they’d dosed her with. Acrid and oddly sweet at once, two overlapping auras and a funny sugary afterburn, it lingered as neither blood nor alcohol-burn, slow and syrupy.
And painful.
Despite that, she could piece together a few things. The popping sound had been a tranquilizer dart, she’d been loaded onto some kind of plastic sled by men who didnottake the opportunity to feel her up—which said they might possibly have understood just what they were dealing with—and now she was on a swooping, jittering helicopter while Elton Huske yelled over and over about how smart he was.
“—Mojave Green and pufferfish,” he crowed, muffled by a helmet which no doubt had a radio mic in it—she could tell from the slight whine of feedback, and the way the pilot kept muttering on a separate channel. “Really cool, huh?”
“Yeah, it’s great.” Barry, along for the ride in a helmet of his own, didn’t sound happy. Of course he wasn’t a big fan of heights, and Simone was wearily unsurprised that she knewthat about him but hadn’t figured out he was tracking her for someone else. “You said you were just gonna make a pitch.”
“And if she’d listened, we wouldn’t be doing this.” Huske let out a short, blurting whoop, like a toddler glimpsing a birthday cake. “Didja see the way she just fell down? It works, it absolutely works. Genius stuff, justgenius.”
The cramp released, a blinding relief. Simone had a moment to goddamnthink, and her first conclusion was that she had to hope whatever they’d poisoned her with wasn’t fatal. The second was that she was tied down pretty tightly. A wide metal band was bolted over her throat, and dozy, prickling heat poked through the general lethargic pain whenever her chin brushed its top edge.
What the hell, man?She couldn’t even talk, her jaw was locked, and the faint crackle-shifting as her fangs slid free and retracted in short uncoordinated bursts was lost under the helicopter’s irritating buzz.
Huske kept blathering about what a brilliant move this was, how many different versions of the poison—not a sedative, actualpoison, Simone was too busy focusing through the wracking waves to do more than hope her vamp infection could fight the shit off—his staff had tested, the amount of trouble he’d gone to.
He certainly seemed to be having a wonderful time.
“What about the money?” Barry finally piped up. The helicopter shifted, banking, and the sound of its rotors changed. Gravity pressed against Simone’s shaking, twisting body, and a new, wholly terrible thought rose through the chaos inside her head.
Fuck the money, what happens at sunrise?
“Soon as we have some samples, that’ll be a drop in the bucket. But don’t worry, there’s tracers on her payment, right? We’ll get that back, and you’ll get that percentage because Ireally value your contributions, my man.” There was a faint smacking sound—either Huske was clapping again, or he was pounding Barry’s shoulder like an excited sports fan.
Metal rattled—Simone braced herself for another seizure, but a gush of cold sweat flooded her skin and she realized her vamp-infected body had fought off most of the crap she’d been injected with.
Oh, hey, thanks.A delirious thought, addressing the infected, patient meat she hauled around on a daily basis.We haven’t always seen eye to eye, body, but you’re doing really well at the moment.
An experimental twitch, her fingers obeying and every savagely tired muscle in her arms and legs trembling with relief. Yep, she was alotbetter now. Tied down on some molded plastic sled, sure, and something about the straps was concerning, but she was back in the driver’s seat. Her muscles were listening, and that was a blessing.
“And just think of the defense contracts…” Huske’s babble trailed off. “Uh-oh.”
“Oh, shit,” Barry muttered, maybe too low for his mic to pick up. “What’suh-oh?”
Just give me a few more seconds.Simone tested her arms, found them comparatively weak but willing. First, she had to get her upper half free, then she could?—
Another ice-spear jammed deep into her left thigh, and she screamed. The howl was long and glassy, possibly edging into ultrasonic, and the helicopter jolted as if startled. Someone cursed, another man let out a short horrified cry, and for a moment she wondered dismally if she was going to have to survive an aircraft crash tonight.
Then her limbs seized again. The motherfucker had jabbed her with another dose of poison-whatever.
Oh, goddammit.
Dawn approaching—she was dimly, instinctively aware of the fact through a screen of agony. The cramps were more intense this time, requiring all her energy and attention to keep breathing through the waves, monstrous ripping sawteeth at every peak. Sweat had long since crackle-dried on her clothes, and now she knew why the metal band at her throat burned.