Trancehack Read online

  “I told you, go to the club.” She leaned against the sink with her arms crossed.

  “I’ll get to that in due time. What I need now is background information. And not just about nightshade, about the zone itself. I’ve been in town three months. I don’t know anything about how things work here. What I need is a guide.”

  “You mean an informant. There are people here who will snitch for cops. It’s not hard to find them. Just hang out around the DMS with your badge and a wad of bills.”

  “I don’t want someone who will tell me anything for a price. I want you.”

  Calla tipped her chin up, giving him an appraising look. “Do you now?”

  “You’d rather shut me down with silence or that bad attitude than make a liar of yourself. I want someone who will tell me the truth.”

  She broke eye contact and stared at the floor for a long moment. “Why does the esteemed Senator Beckwith give a damn about nightshade?” She put an angry sneer on the word esteemed.

  The question took him aback. “What makes you think he does?”

  “You dropped his name yesterday when you were jerking Grant in line.” She shrugged. “I pay attention.”

  Maybe a little too well. He considered how much to tell her. “I’m working on a murder case. The victim was a friend of the senator’s. He wants the case resolved.”

  “He wants the case resolved.” Calla flipped the burner back on, opened a cabinet and withdrew a cup. “That’s an interesting way to put that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Resolved doesn’t necessarily mean solved. Doesn’t mean he wants justice. It just means he wants everything cleaned up, the dirt swept away. Is that your word choice or his?”

  Calla Vesper was definitely going to be a problem if she agreed to help, but then he knew that already. Her honesty was worth the trouble. Her sass, too, he had to admit. He ignored the question. “What kind of tea are you making?”

  “Nothing scary, just chamomile. I save the crazy stuff for full moons.” There was a bitter edge to her humor.

  He decided not to question her about it. “I don’t want you to think of this as being an informant, but I can pay you.”

  “I didn’t say I would do it. But hell yeah, you’d pay me if I did.”

  “So what’s it going to take to convince you?” He deliberately folded his arms across his chest, making sure the sleeve on his left side rode up enough to reveal what he’d purchased in the shop.

  Calla noticed but said nothing. The kettle whistled and she prepared the tea, setting a timer before coming to stand in front of him. Pointing at the bracelet she said, “That’s one of my favorites. I priced it pretty high too. I was so proud of it.”

  Nate held out his forearm to examine the bracelet. “It is very nice.”

  “You can’t get on my good side by buying my stuff. I don’t have a good side.”

  “I don’t believe that.” He really didn’t, though it was more instinct than anything he’d seen from her so far that told him so. “Miss Vesper, I need your help to solve a murder. Please.”

  She bit her lip, then brushed a lock of hair out from in front of one blue-gray eye. “Background information only. I won’t rat anybody out. And you will pay me in cash and up front.”

  Immediately he stuck his hand out. “Deal.”

  She stared at his hand for a moment before rolling her eyes and shaking it. “Yeah, whatever.” She yanked her hand back and snapped her fingers. “I’ll be seeing some money now.”

  Nate reached inside his jacket pocket for the envelope from police requisition, then slapped it into her waiting palm.

  Calla counted the money carefully. “Well, whaddya know? That’s exactly the price of tea in this fair establishment.”

  * * *

  Calla stirred milk and sugar into the tea from three feet away, moving the spoons with a gentle push of energy. It gave her the opportunity to observe Nate as he gaped at a simple display of magic any zone child would have been capable of.

  Even sitting, the cop took up a lot of space. Broad shoulders and a lot of muscle were evident under his boring gray suit. Deep-set hazel eyes missed nothing. Close-cropped dark hair looked almost military in its severity. Probably a veteran—most cops were. The bone structure of his face was all hard angles, and he had a jaw you could break your hand on. His nose was just a hair too big for his face and that haircut didn’t do his ears any favors. His mouth, though, that had potential. It had the look of being able to appear harsh or sensual depending on his mood. She guessed him to be a few years older than her. His smooth, slightly ruddy skin made his age hard to judge. Nate might not have any experience with Magic Born or zone life, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t an experienced cop. He had a solidity to him that went beyond size and muscle, all the way to a core that couldn’t be corrupted.

  Whatever Senator Beckwith wanted him to do, he wouldn’t be able to do it. What Calla wanted to know was could he stop it?

  “You can start asking questions any time now,” she said, doing her best to sound bored. “I’ll let you know if I want to answer.”

  He kept his gaze on the spoons that were seemingly moving themselves. “First off, I want to know about nightshade. What it is, what’s it for, anything you’re willing to tell me about the street traffic of it. You don’t have to give me names. I’m just looking for an overview right now.”

  “Damn right I won’t give you names. I’d like to keep my head attached to my neck.”

  “So the nightshade trade is dangerous?”

  Calla stopped the spoons from their endless loop, tossed them in the sink and carried the cups to the sofa. She handed him one and sat on the opposite end, tucking her feet up under her. He moved from the arm of the sofa to sit facing her. She said, “As much as any drug trade, I guess. I figure you’d know more about that than me.”

  “I never worked Narcotics, always Robbery Homicide. But yeah, it’s all dangerous.” He sipped the tea as if unsure he’d want to drink it at all. It must have been to his liking though, because he took another drink right away. “Grant said the origins of nightshade had to do with religious practices. Is that correct?”

  The lack of the usual disrespectful sneer DMS agents had when it came to any religion practiced by the Magic Born was a surprise. It kept her from throwing her tea in his face. She didn’t want to talk about this but it was better than talking about the gangs. “I don’t know its origins but it was used in incense form at esbats and sabbats.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Incense is something that’s in a form you can burn for the smoke, sometimes to smell good.”

  “I know that, smartass, I meant the other things. Esbats and sabbats. That’s what I’m not familiar with.”

  Calla laughed. “Just kidding, Detective. Don’t get your shorts in a bunch over a joke.”

  He waved a hand in dismissal. “So?”

  She sighed. “Not many people do it anymore. At least not here. Maybe it’s still more of a thing in other zones, but we’re not exactly allowed contact so I don’t know. An esbat is a rite to celebrate the full moon. The sabbats are holidays. There used to be eight, I think, but a lot of it had to do with fertile crops and the changing of the seasons and stuff like that. Stuff that would make more sense if you’re living on the land instead of a city reservation, but you know, they wouldn’t allow us to do that. So the holidays are different now.”

  “Why is that significant? Having to live in a city?”

  “Shit, do they teach you Normals anything about our history?”

  “Not much, to be honest.”

  “Tree-hugging, dirt-worshipping pagans. In tune with nature, drawing our power from nature. That’s what Normals believed, so when they started rounding up Magic Born they figured on putting us in urban reser
vations. That it would make us weaker if we were cut off from nature.”

  He drained the tea cup in one long swallow, then set it on the floor. “Does it?”

  “Of course it does. Do you know what a shaman is?”

  Nate gazed at her for a moment before speaking. “No.”

  She frowned. “I don’t know how to explain this. It’s gonna sound stupid to you anyway.”

  “Try me.”

  “A lot of the old rites would have drums and other music, and you’d dance in a circle. The rhythm and the motion and the music would create a kind of mood. An atmosphere. After a while you feel like you’re outside yourself, even like you’re seeing another part of the world around you. It’s really hard to explain to someone who’s never experienced it and never will. They were called ecstatic rites.”

  “Ecstasy,” he murmured. “So where does the nightshade come in?”

  “You know it’s a hallucinogen, right?” He nodded. She continued. “Stuff like that can get you there.”

  “There?”

  Calla shrugged. “Ecstasy. Transcendence. Dancing with the Goddess. That’s what some people call it, using the smoke to get so high you feel like you’re flying. Like nothing can touch you and you’re in another world.”

  “Doesn’t sound like the typical street drug.”

  “It’s not, in incense form. When it’s used in the rites, the rites last most of the night and there’s a lot of smoke. It can take hours for it to take effect. It’s a lot milder as incense.”

  “The pills that get sold, they’re a modified form?”

  “I know they’re stronger and they can fuck you up, which is why I don’t go near them. The people that make that stuff aren’t always too worried about quality control, either.”

  “Yeah, I know sometimes it doesn’t take much to overdose. That much is in the department white paper on it.”

  Calla decided it was time to go fishing. “So who got murdered?” She was pretty sure she knew, but she wanted to see what he’d tell her. If she were one to gamble, she would’ve bet not much.

  She would have lost that bet. He said, “Dr. Alan Forbes. He was the head of the DMS clinic, as well as his own clinic.”

  “Yeah, we know who he is around here. The one who tests the babies and takes them from their parents. The one who signs the paperwork that gets you dumped in the orphanage.”

  Nate said nothing to that. Really, what could he say? The laws had been in effect longer than either of them had been alive. She didn’t have the energy to get her hate on this morning. “So what’s nightshade got to do with it?”

  Now he got cagey. “That’s what I need to find out.” He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a tablet, fingers dancing across the touchpad.

  “Forbes must have had a lot of juice. That why you were dropping the senator’s name yesterday?”

  “Like I said, they were friends.” He looked over some document he’d pulled up on the screen.

  Friends. She had one or two of those, but none she’d help erase a child from their lives or who would do the same for her. Normals had a fucked-up idea of what constituted friendship. Calla put a lid on her disgust. This cop had no idea, about anything.

  Nate held the tablet out for her to look at. “What can you tell me about this?”

  She took the device. Its energy sent a pleasant buzz through her senses. Exploring a tablet was a nice idea, but there was no way she’d get her hands on something like this long enough. One would cost a fortune on the black market, even with her connections. Shaking her head, she focused on the scanned document on the screen. “The hell?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me. Is it a recipe for nightshade?”

  “Hell if I know. I’ve never made it. But this stuff.” She pointed at the screen, careful not to touch it. She’d logged on by accident a few times, browsing through stuff in the bazaar she couldn’t afford to buy, and she was nervous enough it could happen now. “This stuff is magic stuff. Ingredients, I mean.” She handed the tablet back to him, afraid of holding it much longer. “Where’d that come from?”

  He narrowed one eye. “We’re not sharing everything here.”

  Grinning, she said, “Yeah. Gotcha. Look, I don’t know enough about that old stuff but I know someone we can talk to.”

  “I get more than a cup of tea for my trouble? How pleasantly unexpected.” His eyes crinkled at the corners, and his mouth verged on a smile.

  “I said I know someone we can talk to. I didn’t say he’d be willing to talk to you.”

  “No harm in trying, right? Let’s go.” Nate stood.

  For a moment Calla reconsidered. If this went any further, she’d be seen walking around the zone with a cop. People would know she was helping him and probably assume the worst. She might not have many friends, but she didn’t have much in the way of trouble either, and she wanted to keep it that way. Fishing around the nightshade trade with a cop could bring a world of trouble down on her head.

  On the other hand, what was a bigwig like Forbes doing messing around with nightshade? And why was Nate Perez the only cop asking questions about the case, instead of a task force flooding the zone? If Beckwith could send one cop to the zone, he could just as easily send fifty, so why hadn’t he?

  Maybe a world of trouble could fall down on the senator’s head, and wouldn’t that be worth the risk.

  She looked up at Nate, brushing hair from her eyes. “Let me get some shoes on.”

  Chapter Five

  The zone north of Calla’s apartment got progressively more crowded, bearing more of a resemblance to Normal housing projects than what Nate had seen so far. One storefront was entirely obscured by what might have been an abstract painting if done on canvas instead of concrete. Instead of artisans working on their wares, the crumbling sidewalks and cracked streets were full of young adults and kids who should have been in school. Dressed similarly to Calla in rough, patched clothes, they eyed Nate with suspicion and made him for a cop right away. No one challenged him and Calla though. The kids watched but didn’t speak directly to them, although he noticed a few questioning glances thrown Calla’s way. A raised eyebrow was all the reply they got.

  Just a bunch of kids loitering in the streets, listening to loud music thumping out of an unseen stereo. There was no overt threat, but Nate had the feeling it was Calla and not his police badge that was ensuring his safe passage. There were no DMS agents in sight, either plainclothes or uniformed patrols.

  And just like in a Normal project it was easy to spot the corner dealer. A young woman with short spiky black hair held court from a tattered recliner, sitting on the top with her feet in the seat, giving her a good view of her domain. Nate felt her eyes track their progress. The half dozen or so people around her fell silent as they walked by. Calla nodded but didn’t stop or speak. As casually as he could manage, Perez put his right hand on his belt, ready to go for his gun if needed. Halfway down the block the laser gaze pointed between his shoulder blades seemed to lift. He dropped his hand, tension easing.

  He’d been content to follow a few steps behind Calla. Now he came to her side to speak to her. “She looked like a good candidate for questioning.”

  “Not while I’m with you. Besides, she’s strictly zone. If that doctor was really dealing nightshade, he would have been in business with different people. People who deal in the city.”

  “Is that really a separate organization or just two sides of the same one?”

  She shrugged. “Probably two sides of the same thing. I don’t know. I don’t want to know. One thing at a time, okay? I have to live here.”

  Crossing into another neighborhood was almost a tangible thing as she led him down a series of turns. He would have been completely lost without her as a guide. They might have been at the far edge of the zone
or deep in its heart. This section was cleaner and quieter, the housing units holding fewer families but with larger apartments. Based on the architecture it must have been the oldest part of the zone, from the earliest days of the Magic Born legislation.

  A woman carrying a stack of papers jogged from the other side of the street to approach Calla. “Hey, Calla!” Perhaps a little younger than Calla, she had a mop of cinnamon hair and light beige skin that made her heritage impossible to guess, along with an easy smile.

  Indicating the papers Calla said, “That what I think it is?”

  The woman grinned. “This week’s Chapter hot off the press. You want one now or you want me to save you one?”

  “Like I’m gonna wait.” Calla fished in a pocket and came out with a few coins. Real honest-to-goodness coins. For some reason, that struck Nate as even stranger than using paper money.

  The woman took the coins and handed over a few sheets of stapled paper. “Thanks, babe. Catch you later.”

  “Later, Zinnia.” Calla stood on the edge of the sidewalk and began to read.

  “Uh.” Nate didn’t know what to make of this latest strangeness. “We’re supposed to be going somewhere.” She said nothing. “Miss Vesper?”

  She waved her hand. “Yeah, yeah. It’s the place with the sign in the window that says Books.”

  Looking around, he saw no signs in any windows. “You’re going to have to show me.”

  Calla finally looked up, exasperated. “I’ve been waiting a week for this! The last Chapter ended on a cliffhanger.”

  “What the hell is that?”

  “It’s a serial. Zinnia, the girl, she writes it. Puts out a Chapter a week. It’s really good.”

  Nate furrowed his brow in disbelief. “I’m working a murder investigation and you want to stop and read a paper telenovela? I don’t think so.”

  She rattled the papers in his face. “This is way better than stupid Normal TV. Are you even literate?”