Read Online A Dragon at the Gate (The New Aeneid Cycle Book 3) by Michael G. Munz - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael G. Munz
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steady auras, but not all: a peace lily toward the entrance was zigzagged with crimson that shone brighter when he passed. Others didn’t react until curious patrons touched them, at which point they burst with natural patterns across their leaves. And some, like the pulsing ivy in which Jade had ensconced herself, appeared to sense the beat of the sounds that echoed around it. Though the type of vegetation varied from room to room—a forest here, a jungle there—the entire place seemed filled with a sort of magic that glowed amid the darkness behind the leaves.
Michael wasn’t much for clubs, but knew he would return to this one. Twice before they’d found the table at which they’d waited for Caitlin, Jade had caught Michael with his mouth hanging open. She had giggled at him each time. Though stung by the worry that he looked unprofessional, he could barely bring himself to care.
“And you’ve no clue who those freelancers were?” Caitlin’s question brought Michael back to the moment.
“I was hoping you might know. Did anyone come looking for me in the hospital?”
“Not when I was there.” She nodded toward Jade. “Aside from her. She doesn’t know either, I gather?”
“So she says. Marc didn’t hire her, and he was my first guess. I thought maybe you or Felix might have—”
“Not I. Felix?” She sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t be sure.”
Even if their phone conversation hadn’t given Michael the inkling that something was wrong, the set of Caitlin’s jaw would have been more than enough. With everything happening to him, he’d nearly forgotten Felix’s memory issues. “What is it?”
The music slipped into a slower tempo, heavy with strings above electronic flourishes. Caitlin leaned closer.
“A great many little things, which may or may not add up.” She paused as if deciding where to start. “Horizon couldn’t fix the implant. Remove it, they said, and Felix would likely improve, perhaps even regaining his own memories that he’d started to forget. But Felix didn’t want to lose what the implant gave him. We argued about it, but finally went to Ondrea.
“She was a mite hard to find at first. Marquand had fired her, but another company scooped her up. We didn’t even know if she’d be able to do anything, but Felix wanted— Well. We found her. She managed to fix the trouble; no further memory loss. He even regained a bit, and he got to keep the donor’s memories in the implant.”
“But?”
“But I’ve noticed things about Felix recently: Going out in the wee hours. Up late working on things he won’t speak of. A sense that something is just ‘off,’ for lack of a better word. He doesn’t have to tell me everything, of course, but in the past, if he was working on something confidential, he at least told me it was confidential. The few times I asked about this, he outright denied doing anything. He even claimed he didn’t remember having gone anywhere.”
“You think it’s more memory loss?”
“I did at first. We went to Horizon again, but they didn’t find anything wrong. At Felix’s suggestion, we put a tracker on him in case he was going out and forgetting. It didn’t show any activity, but something still didn’t feel right. I considered having him followed, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that. I told myself I was being paranoid. Then a little while ago, one of the Scry—I assume you remember them?”
“The group you’re with,” Michael said. “People who find things out, sell information?”
“Aye, like Felix does but with more people. One mentioned having seen Felix go with another bloke to a rather shady mincemeat on the edge of The Dirge.”
Michael recognized the term: street doctors who removed bullets, installed unlicensed cybernetics, and dispensed drugs. Mincemeats specialized in not asking questions more than they did sterile conditions or anesthetic. Some just called them cutters. “I thought all mincemeats were
Michael wasn’t much for clubs, but knew he would return to this one. Twice before they’d found the table at which they’d waited for Caitlin, Jade had caught Michael with his mouth hanging open. She had giggled at him each time. Though stung by the worry that he looked unprofessional, he could barely bring himself to care.
“And you’ve no clue who those freelancers were?” Caitlin’s question brought Michael back to the moment.
“I was hoping you might know. Did anyone come looking for me in the hospital?”
“Not when I was there.” She nodded toward Jade. “Aside from her. She doesn’t know either, I gather?”
“So she says. Marc didn’t hire her, and he was my first guess. I thought maybe you or Felix might have—”
“Not I. Felix?” She sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t be sure.”
Even if their phone conversation hadn’t given Michael the inkling that something was wrong, the set of Caitlin’s jaw would have been more than enough. With everything happening to him, he’d nearly forgotten Felix’s memory issues. “What is it?”
The music slipped into a slower tempo, heavy with strings above electronic flourishes. Caitlin leaned closer.
“A great many little things, which may or may not add up.” She paused as if deciding where to start. “Horizon couldn’t fix the implant. Remove it, they said, and Felix would likely improve, perhaps even regaining his own memories that he’d started to forget. But Felix didn’t want to lose what the implant gave him. We argued about it, but finally went to Ondrea.
“She was a mite hard to find at first. Marquand had fired her, but another company scooped her up. We didn’t even know if she’d be able to do anything, but Felix wanted— Well. We found her. She managed to fix the trouble; no further memory loss. He even regained a bit, and he got to keep the donor’s memories in the implant.”
“But?”
“But I’ve noticed things about Felix recently: Going out in the wee hours. Up late working on things he won’t speak of. A sense that something is just ‘off,’ for lack of a better word. He doesn’t have to tell me everything, of course, but in the past, if he was working on something confidential, he at least told me it was confidential. The few times I asked about this, he outright denied doing anything. He even claimed he didn’t remember having gone anywhere.”
“You think it’s more memory loss?”
“I did at first. We went to Horizon again, but they didn’t find anything wrong. At Felix’s suggestion, we put a tracker on him in case he was going out and forgetting. It didn’t show any activity, but something still didn’t feel right. I considered having him followed, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that. I told myself I was being paranoid. Then a little while ago, one of the Scry—I assume you remember them?”
“The group you’re with,” Michael said. “People who find things out, sell information?”
“Aye, like Felix does but with more people. One mentioned having seen Felix go with another bloke to a rather shady mincemeat on the edge of The Dirge.”
Michael recognized the term: street doctors who removed bullets, installed unlicensed cybernetics, and dispensed drugs. Mincemeats specialized in not asking questions more than they did sterile conditions or anesthetic. Some just called them cutters. “I thought all mincemeats were
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