The Last Twilight (29 page)

Broker closed his eyes, revealing, for one moment, a weariness that was weakness, a flaw in his composure that ran down to the bone. “As you saw for yourself, the process for strengthening human DNA is a flawed one. Indeed, quite by accident, the reaction to the current gene therapy process was violent enough to mimic most symptoms of Ebola. Fortunate
only
in that it will prevent people from asking too many questions.”

Amiri tugged against his restraints. “That is why you had the rebels burn the camp. You truly
were
getting rid of evidence.”

“And me?” Rikki swayed forward. “How do I fit into this?”

“We need to improve the process. We must make it… more efficient. It is guesswork, experimentation, but your genetic material confers upon you a unique strength that has, based on our research, saved your life innumerable times. It is, in fact, like finding an individual who is one immense CCR5 mutation.”

Confusion passed fleetingly over Rikki’s face. Amiri watched Broker, too. Felt keenly that they were treading on unsteady ground, that this was the beginning of the end, and that the man would lose patience soon. Still, he had to ask. “What is that?”

Rikki never took her gaze from Broker. “It’s a gene that has been found to confer a natural immunity to certain diseases, such as HIV. Even the plague.”

“But imagine something on an even larger scale.” Broker’s eyes narrowed, became pale specks in the paler mask of his hollow face. “Imagine a genetic makeup that prevents total illness, that keeps bones strong, that makes your flesh heal faster than the norm. That is you, Doctor Kinn. And it is valuable because it makes you strong…and because good health is something
no one ever notices.”

Rikki exhaled slowly. Controlled, steady. “You’re full of shit.”

“And your blood is full of antibodies for the virus. You contracted it, my dear. And you were immune. As is Amiri, I suspect. Shape-shifters seem to be resistant to so much.”

“And Eddie? He got sick. He… died. That seems to defeat your purpose.”

Broker smiled, faintly. “Tinkering is required. Again, you will help with that.”

“You’ve killed so many,” she said tightly, almost desperately. “Someone will catch on.”

“More than four million have died in this region since 1998. What is a handful more compared to that? No one will notice, Doctor Kinn, but even if they do, it will simply become another statistic. And we will continue, here or elsewhere. We always do.”

A radio crackled; one of the men answered it, speaking softly. And then: “Sir, Jaaved is nearing our location.”

Broker showed no reaction. He gestured at the men surrounding Rikki. One of them grabbed her arm, yanking with a roughness that made Amiri see red. Broker watched his reaction, and dropped his hand to the fly of his pants. “I wonder, perhaps, if I have time to use you for sport, Doctor Kinn. Right here, right now. Just to drive Amiri insane.”

“You will
not
touch her,” he snarled.

Broker smiled. “What if I already have?”

Enough.
Amiri finally moved. Shoulder throbbing. Sluggishly, but still fast enough. He launched himself at Broker. Body-slammed the man so hard they flew. Amiri’s fangs dropped. He could smell blood, already taste it.

Hands grabbed his body, hauling him off before he could rip out Broker’s throat. He heard Rikki screaming his name, but he lost her as fists and boots and weapons pounded his body. Rictor was silent—except for that hoarse, choking gag—and still on the floor, Broker began to laugh. Amiri could not hear Rikki. She was gone.
Gone.

“Where is she?” Amiri rasped. “What are you going to do to her?”

“Anything I want,” Broker whispered, sitting up, looking at Amiri with cold amusement. “I own her.
I own you both.
Remember that, Amiri. Rikki Kinn is mine until she dies. Mine, in every way. And you will never see her again.”

He stood, looking past Amiri at Rictor. “And you. The same will be true of Elena. I promise you that. But I think I’ll let you watch when I play my games.”

Rictor said something in a language Amiri did not understand, but it made Rictor cry out again, as though every bone in his body was being crushed. Broker laughed, and kicked Amiri in the shoulder, right in his wound. The pain made him scream, made him want to vomit up his guts.

Broker kicked him a second time, then dug his fingers into his shoulder wound, tearing it wider. Amiri had never passed out from any kind of pain, but he could feel himself riding close to the edge of darkness, and he made himself stay focused. He tried to bite Broker’s hand, and got cuffed in the head for his trouble.

Broker crouched. His fingers were wet with fresh blood.

“For my sister,” he said. “You might not have pulled the trigger, but you were there in Russia for the beginning of the end. And you will suffer.”

“No,” Amiri whispered, staring into his eyes. “For every hurt you give, that will only make me more joyful that she is dead. Dead like a coward. Beating out her own brains because she went
insane.”

Broker snarled, slamming his fist into Amiri’s bleeding shoulder. He pounded the wound, grunting with the effort. Somewhere, Rictor shouted.

Darkness curled. Amiri drifted into his own twilight. He closed his eyes, searching for Rikki.

The pain went away.

“Moochie,” said the man holding Rikki. “Get the fuck out of my face.”

“We’ll take her from here,” said Francis, his voice far calmer. “Unless you like having her ass in your face.”

“It’s not a bad one.” The mercenary slapped Rikki’s backside.

That, when he put her down, required a very precise kick in his balls. Rikki had a good leg. The man doubled over, groaning. His friends tried not to laugh.

“Right,” Francis muttered, and grabbed her shoulder. He steered her away, fast, Moochie taking a position on her left.

“Thought you were leaving,” Rikki said, when the other men were out of sight. She tried not to feel a thrill of hope.

“Thought so, too,” Moochie muttered, but shrugged when Francis gave him a dirty look. “So I like to complain. Shoot me.”

Rikki peered into their faces. “What’s the reason you changed your minds?”

“Had an interesting conversation this afternoon. Put some things in perspective.”

Moochie grinned. “What he’s saying is that we got a better offer.”

“And here I thought you both had hearts of gold.”

“And Swiss bank accounts.”

“Cha-ching,” Rikki said, just as they reached her room.

Francis hesitated before opening the door. “Things are going to move fast now, Doctor Kinn.”

“Amiri, Rictor, the kids—everyone in this building. I won’t go unless they do,” she said.

“Understood,” he replied. “But that’s not what I meant.”

He opened the door. Inside stood Aitan.

Rikki stared. The shape-shifter tossed a set of keys past her head. “Francis, Moochie. Go free my son and his friend. Take them to where I’ve put the children. No detours. Doctor Kinn and I will handle the rest, and we will meet you as soon as we are able.”

“Broker?” Francis asked.

Aitan hesitated. “We must move fast. Now go.”

The men left. Rikki shut the door. Stared some more, into those golden eyes.

“You’re his father,” she said.

“I am.” His voice was dispassionate, cool. “From the look on your face, I suppose my son has been telling stories.”

“No,” she said. “But I’m not blind. You’re here, working for Broker. You betrayed him.”

“And I saved a daughter,” said the old man, his gaze piercing, without remorse. “I will save Amiri, too, if I can.”

Rikki hesitated. “I don’t trust you.”

“Nor I you. But my son…loves you.” Aitan raised his chin. “And I will not take that from him again.”

Again.
Such an ominous word. Rikki thought of what Broker had said, down in the lab, and resisted the urge to rub her arms. “Fine. Where do we start?”

Aitan gave her a sharp look. “Just like that? You are willing to fight for my son, no matter the cost?”

“We’re wasting time.”

“You are not even the same color,” he mused, in a surprisingly contemplative voice. “Let alone the same kind. How do you expect to make this last?”

“True grit,” Rikki ground out. “Or maybe I’ll just hit him over the head if he tries to leave me.”

Aitan grunted. “I want many grandchildren.”

“What an optimist,” she muttered, and held out her hand. He looked at it for a moment, and then clasped it tight. His grip was dry and warm, and his eyes flared bright.

“You will do,” he said; and then, quietly: “Yes, I think I will like you.”

Rikki had no words for that. Based on what Amiri had said, his father didn’t like shit about anybody, least of all humans. But she nodded, and he let go, and reached behind him on the table for two handguns. He did not take a weapon for himself, but gave both to Rikki. They felt heavy in her hands. A good solid weight.

She and Aitan left the room. He followed a path not unlike the one Francis had taken her down earlier, and for a moment she thought they were going to Jean-Claude. But Aitan made her take a left at a different corridor crossing, and they ran lightly to a set of wide double doors that were locked with a security pad. Aitan’s fingers flew over the keys. He pressed his thumb to a blue touchscreen.

The doors clicked open. Inside, Rikki found a dark room full of switchboards and monitors, blinking red lights…and a rather grumpy-looking man sitting at a keyboard. He made a low sound when he saw Rikki, but then Aitan was there, and he hit the man hard over the head. A good blow. The man tumbled out of his chair like a dumpy-armed teddy bear.

Aitan opened a panel in the wall. He held out his hand for a gun. Rikki handed one to him. He hammered the butt against the wires and chips until sparks flew and smoke curled. The dim lights flickered, just once.

“Security grid is down,” he said. “Jaaved will be here in moments.”

“Broker’s men will fight.”

“The men who were supposed to guard the periphery are dead.” Aitan handed back the gun. “I did it myself. All of this … it was waiting for the right moment. I made the arrangements, manipulated Jaaved and Broker in an appropriate fashion, and now, the culmination. Both are too arrogant to consider failure. Or betrayal.”

Maybe you are, too,
she thought. “There’s still going to be a fight.”

“Are you frightened, woman?”

“My name is Rikki,” she said in a hard voice. “And yes, I’m frightened.”

“Good that you are not a liar,” he replied simply. “And yes, there will be blood and bullets and pain. But it is still less than what my son would do for you. Much less, even.”

“I didn’t know we were competing.”

“Competition is the same as survival. Nothing else matters.”

“No surprise you said that,” she said, and followed as he led them back into the maze of halls. Rikki lost track of everything but those lean shoulders, that swift gait. The sound of his breathing. He reminded her so much of Amiri. Father and son. She could not wrap her mind around it.

“There are too many people imprisoned here,” Rikki said, as they passed numerous locked doors. “How are we going to save them?”

“We are not,” Aitan replied. “Not yet. Those kept here are safer where they are, until the fighting dies. My own daughter and her friend are in such a room. Jaaved’s men will not be able to enter, and the doors and walls are bulletproof.” He glanced at her. “There are, however, several more hands we need.”

He stopped at a door. Blood stained the floor nearby. Aitan keyed in the code and pushed inside. A man stood in front of them. The man she had seen earlier. Dressed in black, with loose brown hair that covered his eyes. His familiar face was cut, swollen, but he looked at the both of them with perfect lucidity, those eyes still cutting through her, and nodded once.

“I’m Max,” he said, and Rikki handed him one of the guns without saying a word.

The second door that Aitan opened, minutes later, made her gasp.

There was another man inside, but he was not human. He was tall, almost seven-foot, and the backs of his muscular arms were covered in long sheaths of golden feathers. Feathers, everywhere. Dotting his chest, his hard stomach, jutting from a mane of long brown hair that framed a face so angular and sharp, it alone might have made her question whether he was human. His eyes were golden, piercing; his skin was almost the same color. Rikki could only guess that he was a shape-shifter, but the sight still boggled. Beside her, Max went still. Staring.

“Kamau Shah,” breathed Aitan, and for the first time Rikki saw hard emotion—a stricken shock that seemed to rattle the old man to the core. “My friend. What has Broker done to you?”

“Bad-shift,” rasped the other. “He induced it. I cannot find my way home to one skin or the other.”

Aitan briefly closed his eyes. “We will find a way. We are free now, brother, if we can fight for it.”

“Broker?”

“Soon.”

Kamau—if that was his name and not some language Rikki was misinterpreting—cracked some very impressive knuckles. She danced back out into the hall to give him room, and just around the corner one of the mercenaries appeared: the man she had kicked in the balls.

He was not expecting Rikki and was slow on the draw. She raised her weapon fast—but a blast broke the air and a bullet slammed into the man’s chest. Not from her. She turned, found Max with his gun raised.

“Doctors shouldn’t have blood on their hands,” he said.

“And you?” she asked hoarsely, but all Max did was shrug, and hide his eyes behind his hair. Somewhere nearby, a shout went up. She heard the sharp
rat-tat-tat
of machine guns. Aitan slipped into the corridor, Kamau close behind.

The old cheetah flashed his claws. “Jaaved is here. He is making good on my promise.”

Max’s eyes went distant. “We need to keep Doctor Kinn from him. We need to go.”

“No,” Rikki snapped. “Not without knowing Amiri is safe.”

“Agreed,” said Aitan, and they began to move again. Toward the fight.