Shadowmaster. Susan Krinard
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the door and quickly discovered that the lock was broken—more proof that this might very well be a trap. She paused outside, listening again.
Brita definitely wasn’t in the building, and Phoenix was finally able to pinpoint the direction of the voices. Before she did anything else, she had to know what Sammael’s lieutenant was up to.
Still, she hesitated, sensing something out of kilter besides the obviously ineffective lock. It took her a few minutes to find the webwork of nearly invisible wires stretched between floor and ceiling on each side of the door, clearly meant to trigger an alarm on contact. Or perhaps do something much worse.
But Brita clearly didn’t know that this govrat’s training had included such esoteric skills as disarming bombs and alarm systems.
In five minutes, Phoenix had found the trigger and disabled it. She used every one of her half-dhampir skills to make her way through the maze of corridors while avoiding the surveillance cameras she spotted at each end of every hall or corridor. She found a rear exit and searched the area for the “booby traps” Brita had mentioned.
As she’d suspected, there didn’t seem to be any safeguards to prevent escape, only to keep potential enemies out. If Sammael’s crew did take prisoners or hostages, they certainly weren’t confined in rooms with half-broken locks.
Once she was certain she wasn’t going to trip any alarms, Phoenix carefully moved through the outer door. It was hidden from the view of outside observers by the strategic placement of old crates and pieces of discarded metal and wood, but the voices grew more distinct, and soon she could make out the words.
“I told you I’m happy where I am,” Brita said. “I don’t care what you offer me. I’m not switching crews now.”
“Even though everyone in the Fringe knows that Sammael’s crew is getting restless because he gives half your booty away?” the man’s voice asked.
“He gives a shit about the people who live here. And you’re wrong about his crew. I grew up in the Fringe. I know what it’s like, and I know how to survive here. Sammael’s no weakling, and you’re never getting to him through me.”
“We can always find someone else.”
“You don’t think Sammael’s watching? You think he’s so soft that he’d let some traitor go over to your Boss?”
There was a long silence, and Phoenix could almost hear the man’s shrug.
“Your funeral,” he said. “But The Preacher’s gonna come for Sammael’s turf sooner or later, and it’s gonna be a nasty war. Whoever loses is gonna take his crew down with him, so you better make sure you’re on the right side.”
“And you better make sure you don’t come here again, or I’ll kill you myself.”
The man laughed. “You can try.”
The sound of his footsteps receded, and then there was only the darkness and silence.
Phoenix retreated just inside the door and waited until Brita returned, disarmed the alarms and stepped into the Hold. Her pupils were huge in the darkness, and when she saw Phoenix she stopped in apparent shock.
“You were talking to someone from The Preacher’s crew,” Phoenix said, leaning against the wall.
Brita’s eyes narrowed. “You got past the web.”
“You were laying a trap for me,” Phoenix said, dodging the question. “Why?”
“Because you’re not who you say you are.”
As you are not, Phoenix thought. “You’ve obviously believed that from the beginning,” she said aloud, taking a step toward Sammael’s lieutenant. “Who do you think I am, Brita?”
“You’re not human.”
Phoenix wasn’t shocked. If she recognized Brita, then it was bound to work the other way. But she had to be sure. “Why would you think that?” she asked calmly.
“Maybe Sammael is blind, but I’m not.”
“And what do you see so clearly that he doesn’t?”
“Things like how easily you move in the dark. And other—” She cut the air with her hand. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. I just know.”
“Do I look inhuman?”
“Looks can deceive.”
Indeed they can, Phoenix thought. “If what you believe is true,” she said, preparing herself for a fight she didn’t want, “why didn’t you tell Sammael at the beginning?”
Brita turned on Phoenix again, ignoring her question. “If you’re not human, you have to be with Aegis,” she said. “You’re here to find and expose Sammael, and whatever Bosses you can take down with him.”
“You’re Sammael’s lieutenant,” Phoenix said. “If you’re so sure about this, you have an obligation to tell him, don’t you?”
“Why are you so eager for him to find out?” Brita asked.
“Why are you so willing to keep it from him?”
“Because...” Brita nearly trembled with anger. “You know why.”
“Could it be that you think I might let him know about enemy Bosses sending envoys to his lieutenant? He might wonder how often you’ve done this before.”
“You have nothing on me,” Brita snarled.
“Does he know you’re not quite human, either?”
Brita froze. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You were out there with no light, and it’s dark as pitch in here. You aren’t wearing a headlamp, but you saw me as soon as you walked through the door.”
Lips pressed tightly together, Brita rearmed the alarm system. “You’re wrong.”
“I doubt it. It’s true that you don’t look like a dhampir, and you aren’t a Daysider if you can see so well in the dark, but—”
“A Daysider?” Brita raised a clenched fist. “You’re calling me one of them? Is that what you’re saying?”
Brita did an excellent job of feigning rage, Phoenix thought. A reaction like that couldn’t easily be faked.
But why would someone neither human nor dhampir nor Daysider, evidently unknown to Aegis, be in the Fringe working for a Boss who happened to be an Opir agent?
It couldn’t be a coincidence. She and Sammael had worked too closely together to hide from each other. No...Brita knew what Sammael was, and she was working with him...working to help the assassin prepare for his strike.
Phoenix knew he had to be a Daysider, and that Brita was just as potentially dangerous as Sammael. He was still almost certainly the one in charge, but that was little comfort under the circumstances.
But what was she? She had human coloring and seemed to lack the sharp incisors, but she could easily be hiding her teeth under caps. She could be a blood-drinker.
Or was she, like Phoenix, more human than Opir? She obviously wasn’t a serf. Why would the Opiri, who despised humans, use someone like her to forward their designs? “I’m not calling you one of ‘them,’” Phoenix said.
“But I’m calling you an Aegis operative,” Brita said.
“Now you’re the crazy one,” Phoenix said. “Sure, I’m not completely human. But some of us don’t want to work for Aegis, and the only way to avoid that is to get out of the city.” She met Brita’s gaze. “I’d guess it’s the same with you, isn’t it?”
“I saw you run right toward the fire, right into danger, when you were supposedly trying to escape the Enforcers,” Brita said, jerking up her chin. “I know you’re