Daysider. Susan Krinard
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back into place and rose to her feet, determined to stay awake. She paced the little hollow, measuring out its width from the base of one hill to the other. By the time she sensed the coming dawn, her legs would barely carry her.
It wasn’t just lack of sleep and her body’s need to heal. The effect of the drugs in her bloodstream would already be diminishing. She’d be able to get through a few days—a week, maybe, if she was lucky—before she began to starve.
Dropping down beside Damon again, she took one of the bags of field rations out of her pack and withdrew a dense nutrient bar. She ate it slowly as misty light crept into the hollow. Soon her ability to digest solid food would be seriously compromised, and so she had to use all her rations while she could.
She had just finished her third bar when Damon opened his eyes. He looked at her through slitted lids and tried to lift himself on his elbows. Her blanket slid from his back.
Alexia hurried to his side, intending to tell him that he was moving much too soon. But he was already pushing his body up, though stiffly, and rolling onto his knees. He grimaced and sat there with his hands braced on his muscular thighs. His skin was still extremely pale, almost as light as a Nightsider’s. Even though he was recovering from a serious wound, the change in color seemed almost unnatural, considering the darkness of his tan the previous day.
He spoke before she could. “You’re all right,” he said, his voice rasping with pain. “How long have I been out?”
“I don’t know,” she said, crouching to hand him his canteen. “I remember going down almost as soon as we were attacked. That was around sunset. Considering it’s almost dawn, I’d say we were both dead to the world all night.”
Damon drank with a nod of thanks, set down the canteen and raised his hand to pluck at the front of his bloody shirt. Alexia realized for the first time that the garment was in tatters, the hem ripped off almost to the level of his pectorals.
“They shot me soon after you fell,” he said grimly. “I didn’t know if you had—”
“I’m fine,” she lied. “The shooters haven’t come back.”
Damon nodded and dropped his hand from his chest. “They let us live.”
“Yes. Considering how badly they wounded us, that’s a little surprising. Any idea why?”
“None.”
“You didn’t see anything? Recognize any scents?”
“I could not identify them. But I don’t think they are the same as the first shooter.”
“What makes you say that?”
“A feeling.” He said the word almost mockingly, as if he recognized how ridiculous a reason it was. “Did they take anything?”
“One of my weapons.” She hesitated, wondering how much she should tell him about her real state. She knew what she had to do to survive: abandon the mission and return to the Border.
But there was something else at stake besides her life. Someone—vampires, either from Erebus or the colony—had stolen her patch. Aegis had always assumed that the Nightsiders didn’t know about the inherent weakness in a percentage of Enclave agents, or they would have exploited it long ago.
Apparently Aegis had been wrong. The shooters had obviously known what to look for. That meant the Nightsiders must already be aware of the patches and that they had some essential purpose, even if they’d never been able to get their hands on one before.
Maybe Damon knew about them as well. If he did…
Keeping her face perfectly still, Alexia reconsidered what she’d assumed about his motives. He had outright admitted that the Council had sent him to join her. Sometimes telling part of the truth was more effective than an all-out lie. Had their “partnership” been part of the plan to get her patch? Had he lulled her suspicions just enough to leave her vulnerable?
Had they caught Michael and done the same thing to him?
She examined Damon’s face covertly, feeling such a conflicting jumble of emotions that she could hardly think straight. She had almost begun to trust him, forgetting all her rigorous training, because he’d sounded so reasonable. And, if she were honest with herself, because she had felt drawn to him in ways that defied logic. In the brief time she’d known him, they had forged enough of a bond that she’d been sick with worry that he might be fatally injured, or already dead.
That was all in the past now. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. But the question remained: If Damon had been assigned to take her where the Nightsiders could get to her, why would they try to kill him? Or had they deliberately aimed their shot so that he would be able to heal?
Somehow she had to find out what he was up to. The colony wasn’t her only priority now; she had to discover just how much the Nightsiders—including Damon—knew about the patch and the drugs in it.
Since she had no way of knowing when she’d meet up with Michael again, she had to proceed on the assumption that she would be working alone. And if she didn’t succeed very quickly—quickly enough so that she could still make it to the Border in a condition to report whatever she’d learned—she would die here in the Zone.
In the meantime, she would have to pretend she accepted whatever Damon chose to tell her. That they were still on the same side.
“Which weapon?” Damon asked.
She shook herself, realizing she had been silent for an uncomfortably long time and he must be wondering why.
“My VS120,” she said quickly, unwilling to dwell on the subject. She rummaged inside her ration kit and pulled out the last nutrient bar.
“You’d better take this,” she told him. “You need nourishment to heal properly.”
He stared at the bar, and she sensed he was aware that her offer was another test. Aegis knew that Daysiders could go for long stretches without blood—much longer than a Nightsider—but they weren’t certain if the Citadel operatives could digest “human” food as dhampires could. That would be an extremely useful thing to know.
After a long period of silence, he shook his head. “You keep it,” he said. “I had sufficient nourishment before I left Erebus.”
Of course, he’d lie anyway if he knew what he’d taken in Erebus wasn’t enough to fuel his healing. But if his job was done…
All the anger she’d been suppressing burst like a suppurating wound inside her chest. “I suppose if you need more, you’ll take it from me?” she asked.
“No,” he said firmly. “Never.”
“Why not? It’s not as if you’d have to kill me.”
“We are partners, Agent Fox,” he reminded her. “That makes us equals, does it not?”
“And I wouldn’t be your ‘equal’ if we weren’t? What if I were human? Would that make me fair game?” She leaned toward him, her breath fanning his neck. “Tell me…does it work the same with Daysiders as it does with leeches? Could you make me do whatever you want? Would I become your serf?”
Damon’s expression hardened, but Alexia almost didn’t notice. As the first beams of sunlight pierced through the trees on the hill above them, touching Damon’s face, his skin began to darken. Within a minute it had returned to its previous tan, transforming like the pelt of a leopard that had suddenly changed from black on gold to gold on black.
If Damon had glimpsed her surprise before she concealed it, he didn’t give any sign. “Fishing for information, Agent Fox?” he mused with a faint, ironic smile.
She returned the smile. “Didn’t you hope you’d gain useful intelligence from working with an Enclave field agent?”
He inclined his head, acknowledging her point. “But I would not have you constantly worried that I