Keystone (Crossbreed #1)(45)
“Did you drink milk straight from the udder?” she quipped.
He waved a fry at her. “You modern kids are spoiled. You don’t know what it was like to wash your clothes on a washboard, sleep with heated stones in your bed because there wasn’t a heater or fireplace in every room, or have ink stains on your hand because ballpoint pens weren’t invented. As soon as the fifties hit, I felt like I was born again. Microwaves, television, washing machines, Twinkies, James Dean… it was magical.”
“I think TVs were invented long before that,” I said.
“Yeah, but not everybody had one. Let me enjoy this century before it changes and they have us wearing fedoras and eating wheat grass because fast-food places have become outlawed.”
Gem giggled. “You’re so dramatic.”
“You sound like Viktor.”
I jumped at the sound of metal blades slicing together. Instead of katanas, it was Claude holding a pair of scissors, a comb, and a spray bottle.
“I changed my mind,” I blurted out.
Claude winked. “Don’t worry, I have magic fingers.”
Wyatt watched with avid interest while Claude began snipping at the tape. “You know, I bet a blow-dryer would loosen some of that adhesive.”
Gem stood up. “Stay away from my hair dryer.”
She stood beside me and watched pieces of my hair float to the floor. “Isn’t Claude gentle with his hands? You’d never believe he could crush a man’s skull with them.”
He gripped my head and turned it left.
“Oh, I believe you, Gem.”
“Who cut this last?” he asked, the horror in his voice thinly veiled.
“Me.”
He moved in front of me, spritzing and combing. “Using what?”
“One of those pink razors.”
Claude dropped the scissors on the floor.
Gem sputtered with laughter. “Poor Claude is going to have nightmares.”
Wyatt switched on his dual monitors, and a wall of text scrolled up while he clicked on different windows.
I blew a strand of hair out of my eyes before Claude resumed his shearing. “How does a man go from hanging around in cemeteries to computer hacking?”
Wyatt peered over his shoulder. “A misspent thirty years in the arcade.”
“So you were the guy who was always hogging the machines and making kids cry.”
“Gauntlet was an awesome game. And I’m not a hacker. That’s a human subculture that speaks their own language. They sit around playing Magic, watch reruns of Doctor Who, and wear clever little T-shirts that tell the world that they’re hackers. There’s nothing glamorous about what I do. I’m shut up in this hole for hours, my vision blurring, searching for vulnerabilities in a system. There’s no fancy holographic images beaming onto the wall like you see in the movies. Half the time, I’ve already got access, and I just have to sift through a bunch of records. Like I’m doing now.”
“Can’t you just perform a search?”
He snorted. “You should see how they decided to archive the Breed land titles for the past few centuries.”
Claude shoved my head so my chin was touching my chest. “Keep your head down. I’m a hair genius, not a magician.”
“I thought you had magic fingers?”
He chuckled. “Maybe I do, but they don’t perform miracles.”
Gem circled around him. “I bet I know a few women who would disagree with that,” she said with mischief in her voice.
I peered up and smiled at the remark.
Blue walked gracefully into the room and sat on the edge of the desk, lifting one of the fries and tossing it into the wastebasket. She had on jeans and a pair of black boots that reached her knees. “What’s going on in here, besides a french fry massacre?”
Wyatt sighed, still staring at his screen. “Research.”
“Viktor’s getting impatient,” she said, her shoulders hunched.
Loose hairs tickled my nose. “Why do all this research? By the time you finish, he’ll have bought a house somewhere in Paris and you’ll never find him.”
“That’s why we need Wyatt to expedite the process,” Blue said, giving him a verbal nudge. “Human witnesses aren’t enough to pin the murders on him; they’re only a lead. The information you gave us will help, but we can’t act impulsively. You didn’t actually see him in the bathroom, so you couldn’t even be a witness if something went wrong and the higher authority interrogated us. Viktor is searching for a motive.”
“And I just fell into a steaming pile of it,” Wyatt said. “Take a look at this.”
Claude stepped away, and everyone swarmed over Wyatt, transfixed by something on the screen.
I flipped my damp hair back and stood up. “What is all that?”
He scrolled through scanned copies of documents. “It took a while to gather up all the data on the suspected victims to trace where they worked. Most were business owners. These here”—he pointed out the names, tapping his screen—“are old Breed records that show Darius owned that land up until last century. I still need to map out the area and make sure the businesses fall within it, but I think that gives us all the motive we’re looking for.”
Blue hopped off the desk. “That little weasel. If Darius used to own the land, how did humans get their hands on it?”