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“You’re a shifter?”
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sp; I couldn’t help the edge of surprise in my voice. She really didn’t smell like a shifter. Jonas did—at a guess I’d say he was panther, not only because most rangers tended to be cats of some kind, but because of the mottled, night-dark color of his hair. It was the usual indicator of species. Mine was a mix of white and black, and my eyes were blue, because my genes had come from the rarer white tiger.
Penny nodded solemnly. “He’s my mom’s older brother.”
“Was it just you and Jonas who survived the attack?”
She shook her head. “Jonas wasn’t there when Mum and Dad were killed. He found me later and rescued me.”
“From where?”
“From where I was hiding from the man.”
Something flashed in her eyes. Something dark and angry and very unchildlike. I frowned, once again oddly uneasy. There was something amiss here, with her, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
Yet the ghosts were watching her with fascination and absolutely no sense of disquiet. They surely wouldn’t be so relaxed if they’d sensed anything untoward, especially given that their sense of these things was usually more finely tuned than mine.
“Can you describe the man for me?”
She studied me for a minute, then pointed at me and said, “He wore combat pants like yours, but though he walked through the shadows he wasn’t comfortable in them. Not like you.”
Something twisted inside me. My combat pants had been made with a special gray material that took on the colors of its surroundings and made us near invisible from a distance. Like the shirt—also gray, but patterned with darker swirls—they were déchet specific, designed not only to withstand the rigors of war, but to carry the many weapons warrior-trained déchet were proficient with. There was a ton of both still in the base exchange and, with the war long over, I’d taken to wearing them. The only people who’d look twice were shifters who’d survived the war, and most of those generally weren’t found in the areas of Central I visited.
“So this man was a soldier?”
She shrugged. “I suppose so. He fought Jonas, and almost won.”
The twisting ramped up a notch. Only a highly trained fighter could ever hope to beat a ranger, even in this day and age. I touched my cheek. “Did he have an inked bar code here?”
Her gaze followed my fingers. “Bar code?”
I hesitated. “It would be black, and look like lots of little lines squashed together.”
She shook her head. “No. He was almost see-through, and he didn’t really have a face. Just big eyes and a squashed nose.”
So not a déchet, but something far, far worse. She’d described—almost to the letter—the creatures commonly called wraiths. They were one of the Others, but, unlike most, they seemed to have a distinct plan and purpose beyond murder and mayhem. The only trouble was, no one—as far as I was aware—had yet discovered that purpose.
But why would a wraith kill Penny’s parents and only slash her up? That wasn’t their usual mode of operation. Generally, if a wraith crossed your path, you were dead. No ifs, buts, or second chances.
The light screen above the door flickered to life, indicating the mediscan bed had finished the healing process. I tossed my half-eaten meal in the nearby recycle bin and rose.
“Is Jonas better now?” Penny said, her expression solemn as she studied the screen.
“Let’s go see.” I waved a hand for her to precede me, and sipped my coffee as I followed. The ghosts trailed alongside us, a flotilla of humming happiness. Which again made me question the drifting sense of unease within me.
An amber light flashed on the control monitor above Jonas’s bed. I frowned and pressed a couple of buttons. Though the ranger’s wounds had been healed, his vital signs were becoming unstable and there was no indication as to why.
“He’s been poisoned,” Penny repeated softly. “We have to get him to Nuri, otherwise he’ll die. I don’t want him to die. He’s all I have left.”
“He won’t die.” I flicked the screen across to view the blood work. There was nothing there—certainly no sign of any abnormality in his tox results. And yet he wasn’t waking up, and his condition was worsening.
I looked at Penny. “Are you sure he didn’t say what he was poisoned with?”
She shook her head, and I bit back a growl of frustration.
“Please,” she said. “We have to get him to Nuri. He said it was his only chance.”
