The Chosen Sin (33 page)

His memories flashed back to that night, when he'd gone to take care of the witness. When Julia had seen his face on the camera at the base of the high-security building where they'd been protecting Stephen Miller, she let him right in. All going according to his plan, she'd met him at the door and smiled, asked him why'd come so late at night. He'd given her a plausible excuse . . . then choked her to death.

Christopher could still see the look of surprise on her face after he'd snaked his hand out fast and hard and caught her in the foyer of the apartment. He could still feel the way her slender neck had cracked under the pressure of his grip. He'd gone for her throat, so she couldn't alert the two other guards.

He hadn't wanted to do it; he'd grown to like Julia. Yet there'd been an undeniable, feral part of him that enjoyed her soft skin squeezing in his palms. A violent, maybe even age-insane, part of him had gloried in the control he'd had over her and enjoyed it when the light of her fragile, human life had flickered and died in her eyes.

Once he'd had a taste of that murder and it had coated his tongue like a sweetly bitter sip of wine, he'd gone in and killed the two guards. Fast. Clean. Cut their throats with a blade and let their blood sink into the beige carpet. The sight of it, the scent had made him insane with hunger.

He'd found Stephen Miller, an aging human who'd been his blood mother's accountant, hiding in a closet. Before he'd pulled him out, he'd played with him a little, making him whimper and wet his pants.

Christopher had saved the best for last and had taken his time with the man. He'd tied him up and tortured him slowly, breaking each of his fingers and toes and biting pieces out of his arms, legs, and stomach until Miller had been insane with terror and only been able to babble.

Then Christopher had drained him slowly until Miller's life had slipped from his fingers and Christopher had been sated.

He'd left the apartment that night high on what he'd done, crazed by it. That night, even though he'd loved Daria, he'd fought the urge to return to her apartment before his kills were discovered and torture her, too. That's how much he'd wanted to do it again.

Christopher closed his eyes. Instead he'd plucked a homeless woman from the streets and sated his need.

That night he'd discovered a part of himself he'd always known existed, but had tried to suppress—the very edge of age-inspired insanity. One day Christopher knew it would come for him in earnest. When that happened, he would be a very dangerous Chosen.

Once the highs from his kills had worn off and the reality of what he'd done, and how much he'd enjoyed it, had set in, he'd sunk into depression.

After he'd served his short stint in jail for impersonating a human, he'd gone back to his blood mother and discharged himself from her forever. Then he'd disappeared for years, resurfacing only when the idea for the Shining Way had manifested itself in his mind and ultimately saved his wretched life.

There wasn't a day that went by that he hadn't seen the faces of Julia, the guards, or Stephen Miller in his mind's eye. The homeless woman had never bothered his conscience much. There wasn't a day he didn't suppress the sweet flush of excitement those faces created in him as he remembered the killings.

Every day was an effort to remain sane. He'd been doing better with it, but with the attempt on Ari, he could feel his bloodlust flickering to life.

And the lust wasn't very discriminate.

24

IN appreciation for saving Ari's life, Sante flung open his arms and gave Daria and Alejandro everything they could want.

Even things they didn't want.

The morning after the bombing, three Chosen men had arrived at their room. Within minutes, they'd been packed up and moved across the dome to much larger and fancier accommodations—a three-bedroom, two-bath apartment complete with a kitchen, a luxury reserved only for the wealthiest of Chosen under the dome.

Packing up their stuff had caused Daria some concern—so had moving from their private area where they could speak freely—but it wasn't like they could refuse Sante's gesture. That would look pretty suspicious. Once Alejandro and Daria reached their new digs, they'd resecured it.

Daria had taken one of the guest rooms.

Alejandro didn't like it. He'd been brooding about it for two days now, casting only dark looks in her direction. But it had to be done. She had to distance herself a little from him.

A relationship was not what she'd gone into this mission looking for. She wasn't ready for one yet. Maybe she'd never be ready for one.

It was her desire to not complicate her life. Her choice to remain alone. She had made that decision many years ago and she intended to maintain it. She didn't need a man to be happy, or to complete her. She had her career. That was enough. Sex she could get anytime.

Not only had their rescue of Ari procured them nice new digs, they'd also gained a new respect around the dome. Entry to where they'd never been able to gain entry before.

Like at the teddy bear factory.

Now Daria was headed there on the pretense of visiting Jia Ying, as she did most days. However, today she had an ulterior motive, one she'd been setting up for a week. She wanted in that packing room.

Alejandro was focusing his efforts with Brandon down at the honey fields, though so far hadn't had much luck.

“Valerie!” Jia Ying greeted her with a warm hug as she approached her at the belt. “Have you come to visit with us peon minions again?”

Daria winked and glanced at Rodrigo and Emmet. “There are only a few peon minions I come to see.”

“We're always glad to see you,” said Emmet, “but we miss you down here on the lines.”

She eyed the teddy bears passing on the belt, glancing down at their final destination, the ever-secret packing room. “I'm happy to visit, too. Today I actually came on a mission for Christopher Sante, though.”

“Oh!” Rodrigo waved his hands with dramatic flair. “Madam is on official business.”

Daria grinned. “I am, but as you've noticed I came right at quitting time. I'd hoped you'd all take a drink with me after you're done.” The Alhambra Building had a disturbing melange of willing blood donors and actual alcoholic consumables. “Say the Alhambra, right after shift?”

A smile spread across Jia Ying's face. “We'll be there.”

They said their good-byes, and Daria walked away from them, down the line past the other workers to the packing room and the manager she could see standing there. Even though her heart was pounding, she kept a confident look on her face.

She was about to take a risk, one she'd discussed with Alejandro and Brandon at length. Everyone agreed this was their best shot at getting into the packing room at the factory. It might be their only shot.

“Bennie,” she said as she approached the Chosen male. He'd been in his midthirties when he'd been Chosen and was of a swarthy complexion, perhaps from some sort of Mediterranean descent. “You have a lot to explain, sir.”

Bennie pushed away from the wall as she approached. As he recognized who she was, a look of alarm passed over his handsome face. “Excuse me?”

“Mr. Sante has heard some very disheartening things about what's been going on here in your packing room and sent me over for a surprise inspection.” She came to a halt in front of the man who towered over her and stared up into his face with a severe expression.

“I-I haven't heard anything about Mr. Sante being unhappy with our work here.”

She compressed her lips into a thin line. “You're hearing it now.”

“But I—”

“I don't want to hear any excuses.” Daria whirled and marched straight for the door of the packing room. “Open this immediately and allow me entrance.”

A guard stood nearby. She'd always suspected he was there specifically to watch this door. Her suspicions were confirmed when the man's hand went to his waist, undoubtedly moving toward his weapon.

When the manager made no further move, she glared at him and barked, “Now!”

“This is against everything we've been told—”

Daria put a hand on her hip. “Should I call Carlos, then? I can buzz him right now—mentally, of course—and have him over here right away. Then you can deal with
him
instead of me.”

Bennie blanched.

“Of course, neither Carlos nor Sante are in a very good mood these days considering the bombing of the house and near death of Sante's new mate.” Her identity still wasn't being advertised, though there were plenty of rumors and suspicion in the dome these days. “Carlos might be a little more difficult to deal with than me.”

“All right,” Bennie said. “Okay, okay!” He walked toward the door. “I didn't mean to imply I didn't trust you. It's just that we have explicit instructions on the management of this room.” He punched in the code to unlock the door. “But you're Valerie Hollan. We know you're close to Sante.”

The door unlocked and swung open an inch.
Finally, I'm in.
For a moment, she savored her triumph.

She turned and looked at him. “I get that. Look, you made the right decision. I'll be a lot gentler in my assessment than Carlos would be.” Then she pushed the door the rest of the way open.

The room was well lit. The belt continually brought teddy bears into the room past a line of four workers who stuffed small, white plastic pouches into the bellies of the toys before sending them down the line into a machine that stitched them up, tagged, and packaged them.

The workers looked at her curiously as she approached the belt, wanting to find out what was in those pouches. Boxes were stacked along the sides of the room and a desk strewn with papers stood in the corner. Otherwise, the room was empty.

“Looks efficient to me,” Daria said to Bennie, who stood nervously beside her. “I wonder what the complaint was about.”

She stepped closer to the belt and picked up one of the pouches. It was opaque, and there was no way to tell what was within. Palming it, she turned and did a tour of the room. “It's clean, seems well organized.”

Bennie visibly relaxed. “We run things as well as we can down here.”

She nodded, inspecting the equipment and then standing for a time, watching the workers.

Finally she turned and walked toward the exit. “I wouldn't worry, Bennie. I think this was a waste of my time. This place appears to be running smoothly.” She frowned. “Do you have any enemies who might be trying to get you into trouble?”

His mouth quirked in a mirthless smile. “I do.”

There always were, weren't there? She nodded knowingly. “
Hmmm.
In any case, I'll be giving a favorable report to Sante. You can relax.”

He opened the door to allow her to exit. “Thank you so much for your help, Valerie.”

She turned and gave him a dazzling smile. “My pleasure.”

 
BACK at the apartment, Alejandro opened the pouch Daria had procured while Brandon stood nearby. A crystallized brown substance lay within.

“Carmin,” Daria and Alejandro said together. What a surprise.

Alejandro dipped his finger in and tasted it to make sure. The bitter flavor of it spread over his tongue, gradually turning into a slow burn as the organisms died. He made a face immediately and nodded. “Oh, yeah. That's what it is.
Dios
, I hate that.”

Taking it on his tongue wouldn't get him high. Like some of the powdered drugs from Earth of old, it had to be inhaled to be effective. However, unlike the powdered drugs from Earth of old, carmin was actually comprised of microscopic, living organisms that found a comfortable place within their host's brain to live out their life spans.

In the process the parasite slowly destroyed tissues and released toxins into the bloodstream of the victim, toxins that gave the host a euphoric, invincible feeling. It was highly potent, very addictive, and eventually killed the host.

Carmin was a drug made from the carmilla plant, found only on Darpong until it had been exported and grown elsewhere. The plant was infested with the parasites, the only place, other than comfortable brain tissue, where the bugs could survive. Parasite and plant had become synonymous.

The early settlers in this part of the universe had wasted no time identifying the alien plants, and their bugs, that would get them high. Thousands of people on Angel One died every month from doing carmin.

It did well in sunny, hot weather and Alejandro would bet a million syscredits that Sante had a whole field of it here.

“Bastard!” Daria put the pouch down on the table and whirled, pacing away from Alejandro. “I knew the bastard was financing this place through illegal means.”

Alejandro stared down at the pouch in his hand. “If what you say about the teddy bear factory is true, we've got enough to put him away for a long time just on drug charges.”

Daria chewed the edge of her thumb. “Yes, and yet . . .”

Alejandro knew exactly what she was thinking. “We need to wait and see if we can get him on blood slave trafficking.”

She halted and nodded. “That would put him away for the rest of his unnatural life.
Eternity.
”

“No,” Brandon broke in. “We have the drug charge. That's all we need. We get the names of the manager, the guard, and the workers in the packing room at the teddy bear factory and we take Sante. Now. End of story.”

“And the blood slaves? What about them?” Daria whirled toward Brandon and yelled it, her face going red. “That would give the inner circle plenty of warning before the ABI and the GBC arrive. Do we just let Carlos and god knows who else shuffle them away into a dark corner to prevent them from being discovered?”