Four Dead Queens(14)

I waited for the messenger to reveal his plan, while he waited for his comm case to be unveiled.

Mackiel’s musical voice filled the room. “And that, my fair Torians, is the last item up for auction this evening.” Everyone groaned in response. He fluttered his hands at them. “Don’t fret! Don’t fret! For my dippers will have a mountain of goods from all the quadrants for tomorrow night.” He tilted his bowler hat, his lips pursed. “No one misses out here!”

What? I tore my eyes from the messenger to glare at Mackiel. Where was my comm case? Mackiel never held on to a ware for another night, always sold it as soon as he claimed it, ensuring the owner didn’t come to collect.

Like the messenger.

The audience began shuffling out the front door and back to their lives. The fleeting moment when they’d glimpsed another quadrant gone. I stepped to the side to let them pass. When I looked back to the messenger, he’d disappeared.

What was Mackiel thinking? Had he received an early offer? High-profile clients, those who claimed to be above all that the Jetée had to offer, were allowed to bid early so as not to be spotted in the crowd. Someone like Governor Tyne.

“You,” a voice said from behind me. A breath tickled my neck.

I spun.

It was the messenger. His dark curls were tucked under his hat, his moon-like eyes gleaming like a cat’s in the dark.

Before I could reply, he pulled me into a side corridor by my sleeve and pressed the edge of a long cylinder to the base of my neck. And although such a device had never been against my skin, I knew the shape. An Eonist destabilizer. “Where is my comm case?” he asked.

I stood still, not wanting the current to spark my skin and travel to my brain, rendering me unconscious, or worse. Destabilizers were used by wall guards when someone tried to illegally enter another quadrant. On the lowest setting, it resulted in you losing consciousness, and the contents of your bowels. At the highest setting, it liquefied your brain and interior organs.

“I don’t have it.” I barely moved my lips, let alone anything else. I wanted to keep my insides where they belonged.

Where were Mackiel’s henchmen when I needed them?

The messenger kept the destabilizer against my neck. “You played me. You stole from me. Tell me where the comm case is, and I won’t be forced to press this button.”

“Press the button, and you’re shit out of luck.” He flinched at my curse. Cursing wasn’t allowed in Eonia; it betrayed emotion. But it would be the least of his worries when Mackiel’s henchmen arrived. “You’ll never find out where the comm case is.”

He pressed the destabilizer harder into my neck. The current tingled my exposed skin.

“I need that comm case and the chips inside,” he said.

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“You have ten seconds.”

“I told you, I don’t have it.”

He spun me around to face him. “Where is it, then? Why wasn’t it up for auction?”

“Drop the destabilizer, and I’ll find out.”

He studied my face for a moment before loosening his grip. “Okay, agreed.” He jerked his chin backstage. “Take me to it.”

“Stay here, and I’ll find out when it’s going to be sold.”

“No. That wasn’t our agreement.”

Ha, of course! Eonist morality meant their words were like a blood promise—a binding agreement. I could use this to my advantage.

I tucked a curl behind my ear. “You don’t want to meet Mackiel, trust me. He’ll gut you for coming here. I’ll find out when the comm case is up for auction, and you can return to bid for it then.”

He stared at me, his Eonist face still. “You want me to bid for an item you stole?”

I shrugged. “That’s how it works.”

“That’s not how it works in Eonia.”

I batted my eyes at him. “You’re not in Eonia.”

“That comm case and the chips inside belong to me. To my employer.” He fiddled with a small device hooked around his ear, a comm line, allowing him to communicate with someone long distance—an Eonist technology.

“Now they belong to mine.” I smiled sweetly.

“You don’t seem to be understanding me.”

No. This messenger didn’t get it. Mackiel didn’t take well to betrayal. I’d seen dippers kicked out on their ass for a lot less. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—go home. I’d take my chances with this messenger boy. And yet behind his calm Eonist appearance was a hint of desperation.

“I’m sorry,” I said, though I wasn’t. Not really. “You were my target, and the comm case is Mackiel’s now. The only way to get it back is to win it at auction.”

He must have realized I wasn’t lying, as he released me.

“If I don’t deliver that comm case,” he said quietly, studying the moldy floorboards, “my job will be forfeited.” He raised his eyes, rimmed with black lashes; a shiver ran along my back from the intensity of his expression. “Without work, they’ll move up my death date.”

Death date?

He noticed my confusion and clarified. “I’m as good as dead. Please, I’ll give you anything you want in return.”