03 Solar Flare - Spark Series (2 page)

“Just wanted to make sure you got home okay.”
He listened to the stony silence, then added, “I’m pretty sure a
little buffing will remove the scratches.”

“I’ll remove your head if there’s so much as
a squashed bug on the windshield.” She didn’t sound as angry as
he’d have expected. Perhaps she trusted him a little after all.

His protective instincts forced him to
lecture her. Really, he couldn’t resist. “You shouldn’t go down
streets like that at night.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining at the time,”
she said with satisfaction. “In fact, I’d say you owed me one. Two,
in fact. Stealing my car definitely counts as a big deal. By the
way, did the cops ever catch up to you?”

He could almost see her evil grin. He smiled
to himself, unwilling to ruin her fun. He adopted a stern tone.
“We’ll settle that later.”

She yawned. “Later, then. We’ll discuss the
terms of your indentured service.”

He could imagine how her mismatched eyes
would look. One brown, one blue, they’d be heavy with sleep. Her
hair was probably mussed, the way it was when she’d roughhoused
with her nephews. The image made his voice huskier than he
expected. “In your dreams, Red.”

“Auburn. My hair is practically brown.”

He shook his head. It was a deep, glossy red
that would never be mistaken for anything but. She was dreaming…or
would be if he’d let her sleep. “Whatever. Sweet dreams, Trouble.”
He hung up to the sound of her muttering.

He had years of practice at sparing with the
girl. He frequently visited his friend Blue at The Spark. The
ex-cop was married to Brandy’s sister, so it wasn’t unusual for him
to see Brandy. He’d been the guest at several family functions,
much to her frustration. She still held a grudge against him for
his part in her arrest.

Technically she’d been too battered to arrest
at the time, but he’d been a part of the investigation into drug
running at The Spark. Oddly, she’d forgiven Blue for his part, but
then he was her brother in law and family now. If she didn’t want a
war with her sister she didn’t have a choice. Azor she could safely
hate.

Oddly, he’d come to enjoy her attempts to
verbally stab him. He had ten years on her, and at twenty-six, she
hadn’t come close to piercing his tough scales. She, on the other
hand, was so easily scored. A tender heart hid under her prickly
exterior. It made him careful with his barbs.

He set down the com and looked down at his
desk. With a sigh, he settled down to work. He had a report to
write.

The new drug that had started to show up on
the street troubled him. It was being sold as a sedative,
occasionally used for date rape. All that was nothing new, but this
drug, Euphoria, had unexpected side effects. Occasionally, it
caused hallucinations and mental breakdowns that were often
irreversible. In Kiuyians, it also caused uncontrollable mutations,
changes that would come and go on a whim, sometimes leaving the
victim warped and damaged. Just last night they’d found a man whose
eyes had tripled in size, bulging out of his sockets like grotesque
balloons. His joints had similarly swollen, some of them so large
that the skin had split.

It had not been one of his better nights.

The medics had managed to save the man’s
life. Once the drugs had worn off, he’d also been able to resume
his former shape. One could only hope he’d walk away from the
experience a little wiser.

Hopefully, word would spread on the street
for shifters to avoid Euphoria. For those inclined to abuse
narcotics, there were safer drugs.

In a third, select group, the drug was said
to give visions of the future that often came true. At least, that
was the sales pitch that kept the drug on the bestseller list.

Azor didn’t know if that report was even
true, but the rumors, combined with its ability to induce bliss in
most users, meant the drug wasn’t going anywhere soon.

He rubbed his eyes and squinted at the
screen. He’d never understood why some people were willing to take
such risks with their bodies. He just hoped that no one he knew
experimented with the drug. The results could be disastrous.

Brandy disliked narcotics of any kind. She
didn’t entirely trust them. However, her bones were aching with the
shift in the weather and the tension headache that resulted was
keeping her awake. Even so, she’d been drifting off when Azor had
called. It was another black mark on his slate tonight.

She rolled over in annoyance and stared at
her darkened bedroom door. She contemplated getting out of bed and
digging through the pharmacy in her medicine cupboard. She was
tired enough that she didn’t want to move that far.

She thought of the little packet of pills her
host, Vio Srie, had given her at his party. He’d noticed she was
looking pained and fetched them for her. She’d thanked him and
stuffed them in her pocket at the time, promising to take them if
the pain got worse.

It was worse. Grunting, she leaned down and
snagged her pants from the floor. She tore open the packet in the
dark and dry swallowed the two tiny pills. Closing her eyes, she
lay back and waited for them to kick in. Thankfully, it didn’t take
long. In minutes the pain faded, replaced by a feeling of blissful
well-being. Stretching out on her side, she settled into her nest
of pillows and finally got some sleep.

Her dreams were odd, sharp on some details,
while others seemed out of focus. They also flickered between brief
glimpses of scenes, as if she were flipping through channels. She
caught a teasing slice of an unknown man with green hair stretched
over a woman, making love with fierce passion. The leg she had
wrapped around his was clad in a tall black boot with glowing blue
glyphs. The boots were the only thing sharp and clear.

Before she could comprehend any details, it
switched to a scene of combat. She saw Xera’s face, and oddly, that
of her children as they huddled behind her. She saw herself there,
wielding two short clubs. The detail zeroed in, and she saw that
they were weighted fighting sticks, exactly like two she now owned.
She was the one battling an oddly shifting foe.

The scenes began to shift faster, blurring
together too swiftly to make any sense. She became nauseated. Her
eyes fluttered open, but she couldn’t keep them there. The sleep
sucked her down and down, forcing her to fight her way out. There
was a pressure in her head, like a balloon expanding too quickly
inside her skull. Suddenly it popped.

Gasping, she sat up and stared around, unable
to orient herself.

Slowly the details of the room came into
focus. The sun was rising, slanting through the window with unusual
intensity, turning the dust motes in the air to glittering
diamonds. Gradually its brilliance faded, becoming an ordinary kind
of sunlight, the kind that fell on her toes, gently warming them
through the covers. Her heartbeat slowed. It had only been a
dream.

Shuddering, she flipped back the covers. She
wouldn’t linger in her bed, a prisoner of dreams.

Getting out of bed was always interesting.
She never knew if the mangled bones of her feet would act up,
whether her first steps of the day would be merely stiff or agony.
Today was a good day. Despite its horrible side effects—for the
weird dreams must have been a byproduct of the medicine—the pain
was tolerable. It wasn’t enticement enough to make her seek out
more, though. She had powerful pain meds that could do just as
well.

Feeling almost mellow, she headed for the
bathroom, bad dreams forgotten. She had a cop to visit, things to
do. She flipped on the light and glanced in the mirror—and
screamed. A green skinned hag with staring red eyes and exploded
white hair leered at her from the glass.

The dreams were not over.

Vio Srie sat in his leather office chair and
toyed with an excellent glass of wine. He was sated and content
after a very successful evening. He’d bedded a pretty young dancer,
handed out his share of experimental drugs and finished the night
off by enjoying his wife. Life didn’t get better than this.

It was a shame to return to business. He
glanced at a letter he’d been handed with a slight frown. His
expenses were up, but the doctor who’d promised him money to
“administer” his drugs to the unwary was attempting to be cheap.
Vio didn’t like cheap. It was bad business, and he wanted his
money. The extra income allowed him to keep his wife in rare style.
He liked to spoil her, beautiful creature.

He sighed and penned a short, pointed note.
The doctor would pay what he’d promised, or his unwitting subjects
would begin to disappear. It wasn’t just about the money; it was
about saving face.

Doctors annoyed him, and this one wasn’t
important, other than as a source of income. Due to the dangerous
nature of his drug, he’d been denied permission to attempt human
trials, so he’d sent it out on the streets disguised as a
recreational drug. Occasionally, he slipped it to targeted
individuals, people who matched the genetic profile he’d found to
be receptive to its effects. He had delusions of grandeur, that
one. He thought that history would vindicate him as a man who’d
given human evolution its next great boost. He was a fool.

Vio snorted as he sealed his message to the
good doctor. It mentioned no names, no specifics, but was pointed
enough that the doctor would understand the threat. Vio was
confident that he would get his money.

CHAPTER 2

Brandy headed into the police station first
thing the next morning. In spite of the stimulating, hot loqki in
her mug, she was feeling worn and surly. It had not been a pleasant
night. It had also been an instruction not to take medication from
strangers at parties. Who knew what was really in that little
packet? She was tempted to have sharp words with Vio Srie. But
really, she hadn’t been raised in a nunnery. She knew better.

She was not going to attend any more of his
parties, however. They had a contract now. She no longer needed to
make nice. He could play his stinking games with someone who’d
appreciate them.

She didn’t miss the irony that she was
walking into a police building, but she had no evidence to accuse
him with; just her word that something was fishy with the vintner.
Without proof, there was nothing the cops could actually do. He
wouldn’t be the first businessman to toy with illegal narcotics.
Besides, she couldn’t be sure that the dreams weren’t just an
unpleasant side effect of a perfectly legitimate painkiller. Too
bad she’d consumed the evidence.

As part of a project to spruce up the public
buildings, the new mayor had ordered the old sandstone building
freshly scrubbed and sealed. Trees and flowers had been planted
around the parking lot, and the cracked pavement fixed. The inside
had been given a makeover, too. A fresh cream paint spruced up the
walls and a decorator had come in and added artwork and plants to
the foyer. It made an odd contrast to the handcuffed delinquents
who sat on the benches, waiting to be processed.

There was a line of plaques and awards on the
wall. She noticed Azor’s name on several of them and grimaced. Of
course. Do-gooder. He was the tightest of the tight, and she ought
to know—he visited Blue at The Spark whenever her brother in law
was in town with her sister and kids. She saw far more of him than
she liked, and the man was rarely out of uniform. Maybe they gave
awards out for that, too.

Brandy asked to see Azor and was waved on
back. He was seated at his desk in his usual black-green uniform,
his eyes trained on his computer screen. Everything was tidy and
neatly lined up, his pen and notepad set just so. He didn’t even
look up when she took the seat at the unoccupied desk in front of
him. “Good morning, Brandy. Mind getting me a cup of hot tea while
I finish this?”

She studied him with displeasure. Mornings
weren’t the highlight of her day, and this day had started with
having to deal with him. Besides, she’d had a late night.

Although he must have had the same, he looked
as collected as ever. His green hair was tied firmly back in his
queue, and the mutilated ear, complete with crystal stud, was back
in evidence. His face was marked by an old knife wound across his
brow and just below his eye.

She absently wondered why some people got
away with looking good scarred. Her injuries had never done a thing
for her love life, and she had scars, too. She’d bet he had no
trouble finding dates.

Azor must have thought she was ignoring him.
He noted the angle of the nearly empty cup she braced on her leg.
Those green eyes of his rose to take her measure. “You’re welcome
to make one for yourself while you’re at it.”

She sighed. It was clear there was no dealing
with him until he’d finished whatever he was doing. She could
always dump the tea over his head if he took too long.

While she was preparing their drinks, Chief
Puyta, her father’s old friend, came by. His green hair was mostly
gray now, but it only added to the Kiuyian’s natural dignity. The
father of four daughters, he looked at her now with an air of grave
concern. “Brandy, it’s good to see you well. Azor told me he saw
you in a dangerous part of town last night.”

“Did he also tell you he stole my car?”
Brandy softened her comment by handing him a cup of tea. Since he
was practically an uncle, she felt compelled to explain, “I was
taking a shortcut. He was dodging bullets.”

The chief sipped his drink while he
considered her statement. “His report said it was clubs and knives.
No shots were fired.”

She rolled her eyes as she prepared her
drink. He was so literal. Perhaps his daughters had taught him to
beware of exaggeration. “He jumped in front of my car.”

“I looked it over myself this morning. You’ll
be happy to know he left no blood. You need to change your coolant,
though.”