Shadowmaster. Susan KrinardЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Chapter 5

      “He’s crazy.”

      The woman with the short black hair and nose ring took the chair, folded her arms and stared at Phoenix balefully. Phoenix had seen Sammael’s lieutenant when she’d run into his meeting with The Preacher, but hadn’t really met Brita until she had brought a breakfast tray bearing an odd combination of nutrient bars and surprisingly fresh vegetables, along with a change of clothing. She came again at lunchtime, when she’d escorted Phoenix to one of the shared bathrooms to clean up.

      Phoenix had seen and heard enough to know that Sammael and Brita didn’t always see eye to eye. But Phoenix had no idea where Sammael had gone, and Brita hadn’t enlightened her. In fact, the woman had barely spoken, and on the third visit, when she’d brought a sparse dinner, she’d left Phoenix alone for well over eight hours.

      By Phoenix’s estimation, it was probably about four in the morning...an odd time for Sammael’s second-in-command to come calling.

      “Why?” Phoenix asked. “Because he believes me? Or has he done something else you don’t approve of?”

      Brita scowled. “I got a message from one of the crew,” she said. “I guess your information must have panned out.”

      That didn’t sound right to Phoenix. Sammael hadn’t said he planned to check on it when he’d left. And even if he had, it wouldn’t have been possible for him to act on what he’d learned either last night or this morning.

      Studying the woman’s grim face, Phoenix pretended to be relieved...which wasn’t so far from the truth.

      “Then I guess he’s not so crazy after all,” she said. “Maybe it’s time you started to trust me, as he does.”

      “Not likely. I’m just following orders.”

      “It sounds as if you don’t trust Sammael’s judgment.”

      “I was against keeping you here,” Brita said, the words sounding almost bitter. “If I were him, I’d have killed you on sight.”

      Phoenix sat very lightly on the edge of the bed, her feet planted firmly on the floor. “Really?” she said. “It seems to me that your obvious dislike of me isn’t just concern over who I am and what I may be doing here. You’re personally worried about Sammael, aren’t you?” She smiled. “Afraid that I might have some...undue influence over him?”

      “You?” Brita snorted. “I know you’ve been offering him every asset you have, but he hasn’t taken you up on your offer, has he?”

      Phoenix clenched her jaw, wondering exactly how much Sammael had told Brita. “All I want to do is get out of San Francisco,” she said.

      “And you think he sees you as anything but a tool? He’s had better than you a hundred times.”

      That was just the kind of reaction that told Phoenix she had to keep pushing. She knew next to nothing about this woman, who clearly had almost as much authority over the crew as Sammael did.

      She had to uncover Brita’s motives, decipher her relationship with Sammael, and learn just how much of an obstruction she might be to Phoenix’s mission.

      There was no sign that Brita had any idea what Sammael really was. But what if she did? If she was as close to him as she seemed...

      Surely not. No free human would aid an Opir spy, even assuming she also knew nothing of what Erebus intended for the mayor.

      Still, this was the Fringe, where anything was possible and hostility against the government was rampant. Phoenix had to be certain. She had to risk asking questions of a woman who obviously despised her.

      Even if she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answers.

      “Are you his lover?” she asked bluntly.

      Brita’s muscles tensed as if she were about to fling herself on Phoenix. Phoenix braced herself for attack.

      “His lover?” Brita spat, visibly struggling to get her anger under control. “Neither one of us has time for that.”

      Phoenix released her breath slowly. At least she wasn’t dealing with jealousy, which was a very dangerous and irrational emotion.

      What troubled Phoenix was that her relief wasn’t in the least objective. It was uncomfortably personal, as if she couldn’t bear the thought that—

      “By the way,” Brita said, abruptly derailing Phoenix’s uneasy train of thought. “Sammael said to move you to a new room of your own.”

      Phoenix stared at the Fringer woman in surprise, noting that her body had relaxed as if there had never been any tension between her and the prisoner.

      And that made Phoenix very, very suspicious.

      “I don’t understand,” Phoenix said. “I thought Sammael wanted me to stay here.”

      Brita stretched out her long legs and crossed her ankles. “He doesn’t want you to leave the premises, but you may be staying here for a while, and you can’t spend all your time locked up in this room.”

      “Sammael’s orders?” Phoenix asked.

      Brita didn’t answer. She rose and jerked her head toward the door. “Come on. I’ll show you to your new digs.”

      She strode through the door without once looking back. Phoenix followed slowly, half-expecting an ambush.

      The corridor outside was damp and cold. The only light came from Brita’s headlamp, which she turned on as soon as they left Sammael’s room, and a few flickering lights spaced several yards apart. Phoenix assumed they conserved energy whenever possible, since the Fringe’s access to the city’s power grid was strictly limited.

      Brita escorted Phoenix along several corridors and stopped before a warped door. “About as good as any room you’ll find here,” she said, “and it has a decent bed.”

      She led Phoenix inside. “If you need anything,” she said, “bang on the door. This place gave up being soundproof a long time ago, if it ever was. But you wouldn’t be very smart to try and leave this room without an escort. Every exit from this building is guarded by a whole network of booby traps and alarms, and they have to be disarmed very carefully.”

      “How many prisoners do you have here, anyway?” Phoenix asked.

      “Just do as I tell you.” Brita closed the door, locking it from the outside. Phoenix listened for a while after Brita’s footsteps had receded into the distance.

      This was obviously some kind of test...or a trap. And Phoenix was by no means sure that it was Sammael’s idea. She would certainly learn the truth when Sammael and his crew returned. Since they worked at night, they’d be finishing up their current “business” by dawn or soon after...only a couple of hours away.

      Brita had told her not to leave the room, and Phoenix knew it would be dangerous to try. On the other hand, she might never have a better shot at looking for evidence that Sammael was in direct communication with Drakon, and how he might lead her to the assassin. The odds that anything obvious would turn up were probably thousands to one, but the odds weren’t her concern. The looking was.

      Still,