False Hearts (False Hearts #1)(88)

“I prefer to do this the old-fashioned way,” Malka says conversationally. “This is from the twelfth century. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

It is, in a horrific way. The metal blade is scratched with time, but its edges are still sharp. Emeralds embellish the hilt.

Nuala is crying. “Please,” she says. “Please.”

It’s a useless plea. Malka drifts closer, the light overhead catching on the blade. She’s stalking her prey. Nuala pushes back into the wall as hard as she can and starts screaming for help. Nobody can hear her but me, and I clasp my hands over my ears. My resolve breaks and I hear the rough sobs from my throat. I want to shield Nuala with my body, but I know it won’t protect her. And I’m too much of a coward. I’m not Tila. Tila would rush Malka and disarm her, consequences be damned.

“Don’t you dare close your eyes, Tila,” Malka says, her words almost singsong. “You need to understand just how imperative it is to keep your goddam little mouth shut.”

I open my eyes wide, afraid to blink. Don’t look away.

Nuala keeps screaming, a high banshee wail. Malka presses the point of the blade through the hollow of her throat. Nuala’s screams cut short.

Blood stains the white uniform, falling in a crimson tide down her front. It was quick, at least. No torture. No scalpels like in Mia’s dream.

Malka draws the sword out, wiping the blood off with the end of Nuala’s tunic. The girl’s eyes stare straight ahead, still shining with tears. Her beautiful hair is matted with blood. Malka looks down, and all the anger has fled from her face. She looks serene, as if she’s come out of the dreamscape, wiped clean of her bloodlust, at least for a time.

“Now you see what happens if you cross us.”

“Did I not already see that at Xanadu?” I whisper. I wish this could be a Verve hallucination like the original Test, but it’s not.

“Nothing like a repeat lesson to drive it home.” She comes closer to me, until I can smell her perfume under the iron tang of blood. It smells of incense, dark and smoky. She pauses scant inches from me. I can see each perfect pore in her face, the glitter of her eyeshadow.

She’s close enough to kiss me. I feel the tip of my tongue touch the false-crowned molar. It’s meant for Ensi, but would it harm her, too?

“And I don’t know if I trust you,” she murmurs. “See, I liked Nuala. This, this was the kindest way. If you betray us, you won’t be so lucky.

“I’m not sure what he sees in you, or what he wants from you. Whatever it is, he’ll get it, little canary,” she whispers to me. “At the moment you’re interesting. He’s still figuring out what he really wants from you. And, once he gets it, you’ll be obsolete. If I were you, I’d make sure I was useful elsewhere, and prove myself trustworthy. To him. And especially to me. Or else you’ll find you’ll never flee your cage.”

She stays that way, almost nose to nose, staring into me. I worry that she can see everything—my treachery, my fear.

After a moment, an age, she pulls away, putting the sword back in its sheath, like an avenging Valkyrie. I don’t want to be against her, because I fear I’d have no chance.

She smiles at me as if she knows this, and then she leaves. I press the hollow of my throat three times, try not to look at the corpse of Nuala, and trail after her.

*

Back at the safe house, I can’t stop shaking.

I don’t cry, but I want to. So I sit in the living room, wrapped in a blanket, simply shivering. Nazarin sits next to me. I’ve told him everything that happened. We’ve transferred both of our recordings to Kim’s server. We told her not to watch them. I didn’t want her to see that girl murdered. It might remind her of what happened to her wife, just because she came too close to her quarry on what seemed to be just one more case.

“Do you know who Veli is?” I ask. Something about Malka’s body language made me think it was important.

“No. I’ll ask my superior, see if he knows anything.”

We trail off again. Nazarin’s eyes go distant and he pings his superior. His fingers dance as he types in the air. I lean against him, his arm warm against mine. It helps ground me. My eyes drift closed, and despite everything that’s happened, I doze.

A time later, Nazarin gently shakes me awake.

“What is it?” I ask. My brain is fuzzy. Memories of Nuala come back, and I want to vomit.

“My superior looked up the name, but it was classified. Even for him.”

“Shit. Really?”

“Yes. He’s gained access now, though, and he can share it with us.”

“All right.”

Nazarin gets up and brings back two glasses of water. I gulp mine down. He takes a breath. “Veli was once CEO of Sudice, Inc.,” Nazarin says. “Veli Carrera. Alex Mantel’s father, Peter Mantel, and Carrera started Sudice. They created Zeal. After Peter died, Alex ousted Carrera, wanting Sudice to be a family-run affair. Carrera didn’t take it well. Alex thought it was dangerous to leave Carrera … untethered, and so he tried to kill him, hiring a hitman, probably hired from the Ratel. But Veli Carrera escaped and found his way into the mob. He changed his face so that no one would find him. The SFPD think that he worked his way up from the bottom and became … Ensi.”

I let that sink in. “So Ensi is the man who helped invent Zeal in the first place. It explains why he was able to fabricate Verve. He has the technical foundation. It also explains why he’s interested in weakening Zeal’s hold on the city and replacing it with Verve. They can break down the city, and hurt Sudice in the process.”