Artificial Absolutes (Jane Colt Book 1) Read online

  Slam.

  Dad strode up to Devin. “No more of your excuses! I’ve had enough. You’re dead to me!”

  Jane backed away.

  Her mother stepped between the two. “Victor, please. Let’s not—”

  “No, Elizabeth. No more.” Dad pointed at Devin. “I’m through with you. Understand? We’re finished. I have no son.”

  “Victor—”

  Slam. Something shattered.

  Jane flattened herself against the wall, too afraid to peek inside. After several moments of silence, Devin stormed out without seeing her.

  Oh, Devin, why are you always getting in trouble?

  Her dumb brother had always flouted the rules, and she’d often heard conversations like those. Her father’s dramatic rhetoric was legendary. Even though it was scary as hell, she was sure he never meant the things he said. He was probably just pissed-off at Devin for getting arrested at a protest or something.

  Jane was fifteen at the time, and like all fifteen-year-olds, she’d thought herself cleverer than her parents. While playing the perfect daughter by day, she’d become a covert composer by night. Doodling silly songs instead of studying—that was her rebellion, her alternative to sneaking out to parties or hiding unapproved boyfriends.

  About a week after the latest flare-up between her parents and her brother, Jane stayed up late working on her latest masterpiece. Her stomach rumbled. Dinner had been almost eight hours before.

  Her parents would be terribly upset if they found out what she’d been up to, so she crept out of her room as silently as possible in search of a snack.

  “You’re heartless, Victor!” Her mother’s voice was shrill behind the door of the master bedroom.

  Her mother never shouted.

  Dad roared, “How can you consider paying? You know he’s in on the scheme! Devin got himself into this mess, and he can get himself out!”

  Jane ducked back into her room but kept the door open, too curious to leave.

  Mom yelled back, “What if he can’t? You’d really abandon your son as if he’s expendable?”

  “Don’t. Don’t act like this is my fault. I’ve been more than patient with the boy. I’ve done everything for him, and he continues to betray me. He’s the heartless one.”

  Jane wanted to cry out in protest.

  “I don’t care what you think.” Mom’s voice was firm. “I’m doing it.”

  “You’ll be playing into their hands!” Dad shouted.

  “He’s my child, Victor! I can’t—”

  “They’re bluffing! Those are the people he walked away from us for!”

  “And if they’re not?”

  “I told you, he’s dead to me.”

  Mom’s response had been low and inaudible. After straining her ears in vain for several minutes, Jane had quietly closed her door.

  At the time, she had thought someone blackmailed her parents over something Devin had done. The apparent severity had led her to believe he’d either committed a felony or knocked up some girl. Despite her usual tendency to side with her brother over her parents, she’d seen the reason behind her father’s refusal.

  Not anymore.

  She recalled the reddish-haired officer’s words: “We have information about his past that shows he had ample reason to resent your father.”

  This must’ve been what he was talking about. She resented her father too. No, more than resented. She didn’t understand how he could be willing to let her brother die like that.

  And then there was the timing of the whole thing. The video had been recorded just days before her mother’s death.

  Could the hostage thing have something to do with that?

  No one had told her who actually assassinated Senator Elizabeth Lin-Colt, only that the case was related to a Fringe warlord, and that the details were classified due to an undercover operation. Had the warlord taken Devin hostage to get to her mother? Where had he been all those months after?

  Jane got up, aiming to wake him and ask. She reached for the button to open the cockpit door, then froze.

  “It’s all in the past,” he’d said, eclipsed by deep sadness. If being cut off by their father and held hostage was the “past” he referred to, the one that hurt him so much to think about, she should leave him alone.

  Jane sat back down and looked at the navigation chart. Travan Float was less than a day away. Better focus on today’s mysteries than get caught up in the past. Where’d the video come from anyway?

  Must have been the Seer. He’d seemed to know a lot about Devin. Had he really found the video and programmed the Stargazer to show it to her once she was alone? Why would he do that?

  So weird.

  Shivering, Jane pulled Devin’s jacket tighter around herself and gazed into the endless night.

  Travan Float reminded Jane of an enormous black bug with a round backside, a tiny head, and a pointed cone sticking out of the underside.

  She had no trouble docking in one of the float’s many seedy hangars. A few swipes of the control screen was all it took to extend an airtight tunnel from the Stargazer and lock it onto one of float’s hatches. The hatch itself baffled her, since it was ancient and non-computerized.

  Jane examined the confusing array of levers and large wheels on the rectangular metal door. “What the hell is all this? Devin, you deal with it.”

  Devin’s apparent familiarity with the setup surprised her. After he pushed the hatch open and emerged from the ship, nobody asked questions, only for money, which he silently handed to the mean-looking old woman.

  The first thing Jane saw upon leaving the docking corridor was an open area designed to look like a city square. All the buildings stood at the same height, and a ceiling sat on top of them. The place was dim. Most of the light radiated from a giant hologram of a middle-aged woman with slanted black eyes, short black hair, and a piercing expression. Flame-yellow words circled her: Madam Gloria Wrath, Proprietor of Travan Float.

  Characters from all walks of life passed through the square. A drug dealer sold his poison out in the open as if it were candy. A man in a gaudy outfit, surrounded by armed thugs, entered one of the stores. An air transport, emblazoned with the glowing image of a woman in a lewd position, emerged from a large window and maneuvered around Madam Wrath’s hologram.

  Jane was taken aback by the sight of a Via Counselor leading a row of raggedy children out of a wheeled transport. It reminded her that the float wasn’t just a shady harbor, but rather a city of sorts. “Lovely place.”

  “Stay close.” Devin kept one hand on his bag, probably to reach his gun faster in case of trouble.

  The thought of another gunfight, one that used actual ammunition instead of stun blasts, terrified Jane. She tried not to let her anxiety show as she followed her brother across the square. Nothing’s gonna happen.

  A group of tough-looking men and women carrying large, distinctive red guns surveyed the populace.

  “Are they the police or something?” she asked.

  Devin glanced at them. “Madam Wrath’s thugs. They’re called Wrath Guards. So yeah, they’re supposed to police the area.”

  Jane heard a cry. A skinny man held up his hands as a muscular woman waved a gun in his face. She yelled at him until he handed her something, then knocked him out with the handle of her gun.

  The “police” barely acknowledged the situation.

  Jane inched closer to her brother. “Heh. Like I said, lovely.”

  A Wrath Guard grabbed him by the shoulder. “You! Don’t I know you?”

  “You have me confused with someone else,” Devin said coolly.

  The thug eyed him suspiciously, then let go. Devin continued on his way, his mouth pressed in a hard line.

  Jane looked around. �
�Where do we start?”

  “Not sure.” Devin turned into one of the doorways. It led to a long corridor lined with sketchy-looking shops. “Let’s try the tech dealers. They’d be better at recognizing the machines.”

  He looked up at one of the signs above a boarded-up store, which had “Later Bitchez!” scrawled in brown graffiti across its sign. “Damn.”

  Jane tried to make out the words under the graffiti. “What were you looking for?”

  “Hello again,” said a husky female voice. A woman with blond dreadlocks, heavy black makeup ringing bloodshot eyes, and a bronze ring between her flared nostrils clung to Devin’s shoulder. She pressed her face against his. “Is it possible you’ve got even more handsome, Black Knight?”

  Devin pushed the woman off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Jane ran to keep up as he walked away.

  The woman chased him. “Don’t pretend ya don’t know me! I was the one who helped ya find that kid, remember? You wouldn’ta got the job done if it weren’t for me! Hey!” She stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Asshole!”

  Jane kept her gaze on the woman, too fascinated by her peculiar appearance not to stare. “What the hell is her problem?”

  “The majority of people here are drug abusers,” Devin muttered.

  Still looking back, Jane forgot to watch where she was going. She crashed into someone. “Sorry!”

  The dirty-looking man grabbed her arm and leered at her. “No need to be sorry,” he said, words slurred. He grinned at Devin. “You her pimp?”

  Devin pulled Jane away before she had a chance to react. “Get away from her.”

  Jane was too incensed from the man’s assumption to come up with a suitable retort.

  The man blocked her as she tried to leave. “Gotta special client waitin’, eh? You’re niiiice. Lemme guess. He stole you from the IC?”

  Devin pulled out his gun and aimed it at the man’s face. “Get away from her.”

  The man held up his hands with a sneer. “Oh, okay, I get it. Gotta keep the best goods untouched, eh? Yeah, I’ll bet the bosses’ll pay a fortune for fresh meat like that.”

  Jane was enraged. “Why—why you—you fat-faced, shit-brained slimeball!”

  “Aw, c’mon, baby. Don’t be mad! Let me make it up to you.” He licked his lips and reached toward her face.

  Jane twisted and kicked her heel into the man’s stomach. The man doubled over. Devin caught her as she stumbled. She spun, shocked at her own action.

  The man growled. “Fuckin’ whore!”

  He reached behind him and started toward her—

  Bang.

  The man bellowed as he fell to the ground, clutching his thigh. Blood seeped from his wound, darkening his pant leg around a burnt-edged hole from the laser blast.

  The gun he’d apparently been reaching for slid toward Jane. She hastily kicked it away. Holy shit!

  Devin glowered at the man. “Get up and leave. Keep your mouth shut.”

  The man cursed as he staggered to his feet. He snarled, but his eyes betrayed his fear. His gaze fell toward the black barrel still aimed at him. He limped away.

  Jane couldn’t believe what had just happened. She watched until the man disappeared around the corner. What the hell? My brother freaking shot a guy! But that bastard deserved it.

  A squat robot about half her height rolled over to the man’s gun, opened its square body, and swept the weapon inside with its flat arm. Damn. I should’ve taken the gun. Could be handy in a place like this.

  Devin put a hand on Jane’s shoulder and pushed her along as he walked back toward the square. He kept his gun in the other hand. “You’re going back to the ship.”

  “Like hell!” Jane twisted out of his grip. “I’m not going anywhere until—”

  “Dammit, Jane! You saw how dangerous this place is!” He didn’t look angry—he looked fearful. Jane couldn’t remember the last time he’d seemed scared like that.

  She could tell she wasn’t going to win. “Fine.”

  She allowed her brother to take her back to the Stargazer and nodded innocently when he told her to stay.

  But she wasn’t about to sit still, not when she was so close to finding Adam. A few minutes after Devin left, Jane returned to the villainous city of sin.

  Chapter 11

  Helluva Place

  Eaglewing gulped his beer. It was the cheapest stuff at Hellfire 13, and it tasted like piss. But booze was booze, so he drained the rest of his glass. His face burned. Maybe he shouldn’t have chugged that. He’d need a clear head if a prospective employer approached.

  Hellfire 13 was one of those super exclusive nightclubs where if you wanted to get in, you had to know someone. Or pay off a lot of someones. It wasn’t one of those swanky establishments with crystal chandeliers and silk on the walls, although there were plenty of those around Travan Float for rich crime bosses. Nah, Hellfire 13 was a shithole with cheap decorations and litter all over the place.

  It was so hard to get in because the people who frequented it were the types who didn’t want to be found. They weren’t your average drug dealers and pimps and shit. They were the really paranoid types: demons who only went by their Netnames and mercs who went by no names at all, people who made a living by being hard to find. They were creatures of the night, and it was always night on Travan Float. Hellfire 13 was the place to find those people if you wanted to hire one, which was why every so often, you’d see a boss in a fancy outfit go into one of the VIP rooms. Those were sorta nice on the inside.

  Eaglewing, along with his pal Fedora, had gained access to the club almost eight years before by hacking the giant killer robot that guarded the door and either let you in because you were on the List or shot you in the foot because you weren’t. It’d been pretty epic when they succeeded, since they were little kids at the time. The other demons had been so amused they put the two on the List just for kicks. After Eaglewing and Fedora had been hired for a few jobs, no one questioned their right to be there.

  Eaglewing pushed the edge of the bar, and his barstool swiveled. He scanned the dark place for girls. His gaze wandered past the dirty dance floor, which had several metal stripper poles in the middle, and over to the virtu-game center by the wall. A couple of people with VR visors that looked like big metal blindfolds were wired in. They sat motionless in their chairs even though they were probably having epic adventures in their heads.

  “See anything?” Eaglewing could barely hear Fedora’s low, dumb-sounding voice over the club’s pounding music. As much as he loved his buddy, Eaglewing had always thought Fedora looked like a dope with his round face, big lips, and shaggy hair sticking out from his signature brimmed hat. Good thing he was a helluva lot smarter than he looked.

  A spike of black hair flopped onto Eaglewing’s face. He pushed it back. “Just the usual assortment of creepy demon chicks, drugged-out junkies, and hookers, and only a few of ’em at that.”

  He’d seen a few good-looking ladies, but they’d come on the arms of the bosses and were therefore off-limits. That was the problem with living on a float best known for its crime rate: no decent girls around.

  It was still a million times better than the ghetto he and Fedora had grown up in. They’d met back when they went by their real names as fellow thieves on a good-for-nothing Fringe planet. Their combined knacks for messing with computers got them their ticket out. They’d hacked a smuggler ship into thinking they were members of its crew. When the actual crew found out, they dumped the two on Travan Float. But it was okay, since there they could get work as hackers for hire instead of scraping by on what they could steal.

  Fedora glanced at the small stage at the back. “I wish the show’d start already.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Bored, Eaglewing looked up at the
muted screen over the bar.

  Ah, Sarah DeHaven. My new favorite.

  He was more than happy to watch the music video again. Sarah looked like a goddess in her colorful getup, with its high collar and ripped-up skirt. Anyone else would have looked ridiculous wearing that. Eaglewing rested his chin on his hand. He wasn’t the type to believe in love, but the effect Sarah DeHaven had on him seemed pretty damn close.

  The club’s music switched to a crazy electronic fanfare as an overenthusiastic announcer voice blared over the speakers: “Welcome to Hellfire Thirteen!”

  Eaglewing snapped out of his Sarah DeHaven-induced trance. Swirling, flame-colored lights flashed around the club.

  The club’s round-bellied entertainment manager, Van Dinh, strode onto the stage. “Gentlemen of the underworld, for your pleasure and entertainment, I present the Hellfire Furis!”

  A string of fiery holographic numbers, one through thirteen, splashed across the black backdrop. Each number morphed into a letter, spelling “HELLFIRE FURIS.”

  Van Dinh spread his arms. “Let’s hear it for our thirteen lovely ladies!”

  Here we go again.

  The letters exploded.

  “Destini!”

  A new set of flaming letters appeared, spelling “DESTINI.” A hot blonde in a skintight red dress strutted across the stage. Eaglewing hooted and catcalled with the rest of the crowd as she stopped in the back corner and struck a sexy pose.

  “Rubi!”

  The letters spelled “RUBI” as an equally hot redhead in a skimpy yellow outfit sauntered across the stage and struck a pose in the opposite corner.

  Eaglewing had seen the routine enough times to have it memorized. Next came curly-haired Triniti, Fedora’s favorite. Fedora stood and cheered extra loud for her. Then platinum blonde Stefani, then big-boobed Candi, then Eaglewing’s favorite, pouty-lipped Harmoni. But instead of spiky-haired Mandi, a new girl followed.