A Prison of Worlds (The Chained Worlds Chronicles Book 1) (15 page)

“It
also occurred to me that our Eric was sent here to test the waters and see
exactly how dangerous I am.”

“Well,
you are going to see the master of the city,” Jeremy stated.

“Yeah,
speaking of which...  how screwed are we?”

“It
could be worse.  Our fellow moves real fast.  He is already across the city. 
He stopped a few times.” Jeremy handed me a paper with several addresses.  “Right
now he's at a Mountain High building.”  It seemed today was the day to see the
wealthy.  Mountain High was another complex for the ridiculously wealthy.  It
wasn't anywhere near the Blight, and rumor had it that the private security
also policed the blocks around the complex just to ensure undesirables didn't
wander in and bother the residents.  It was possibly the safest, most law-abiding
area in the city.  The irony was killing me.

“So
this is where Kingston may be?” I questioned.

“No
guarantees.  However, the building he is in right now is owned by an Edward
Prince.”

“I
think that makes it a good bet.  I vaguely remember being proud of that name,”
I muttered.  Most of the specifics of my time holding Kinston's memories were
gone, but some generalities remained.  I really would not be surprised if he
chose a variation of royalty to reenter society.  “Can I bum a ride over to the
area?  It looks like time is going to be at a premium tonight.”

Jeremy
dropped me off at the edge of the patrolled area.  I felt tiny on the street
with skyscrapers rising on either side.  If I looked up, all I saw was
blackness; the ever-present lights of the building and streets simply blocked
out anything as mundane as the stars and moon.  It was early evening, and
crowds still walked the streets as far above us the hum of traffic and lights
of the vehicles displayed themselves prettily to the backdrop of a dark sky. 
Damn, I hated this part of the city.

I
had memorized the map of the city when I first arrived in the city, so it was
trivial to find the address the assassin had stayed at.  The guards ignored me;
my dress style apparently not so low class that I drew attention.  When I drew
up to the building, I confess I didn't really see any difference between it and
its neighbor except for the address number.  Black paneled glass stretched up
as far as the eye could see, and only the first few floors had windows that
were transparent.  At the door I closed my eyes, concentrated a bit, then I
drew an imaginary circle around me and willed energy into it.  I stepped up to
the door and stepped through, just as one of the pedestrians walked up to the
door and almost ran into me.  The automated sensors detected our weight and
opened to us.  The men at the security counter stared at the man next to me,
but their eyes almost seemed to slide away from me. 

Walking
up to the security detail, I examined the man at the desk carefully while
miming talking to him.  Nodding in imaginary acknowledgment, I moved forward
and wandered around looking for the elevator.  I found a restroom before I
found the elevators, and stepped inside.  I stepped inside the unoccupied stall,
and biting my lip in concentration, I forced my features to mimic the guard I
had studied minutes earlier.  On the way out, I looked in the mirror to confirm
my features were mostly correct and then washed my hands.

All
of this may seem like a lot of trouble to go through when you're invisible, but
there were very basic reasons for it.  The technique I was using basically
issues a blanket suggestion that I wasn't there.  It was very useful around
people, especially when most of the active psionics had long since left the
city.  There was a flaw to it, though.  Machines and cameras were not fooled.  True
non-magical invisibility involves bending light and is very tiring, and yet
another technique I knew to fuzz the sensors would be like poking a hornet’s
nest.  My ability to deflect notice was very energy efficient; however it had a
relatively small radius, well within line of sight.  The drawback, of course,
was that a building security detail would notice a stranger roaming around the
restricted floors, but they probably wouldn't notice a fellow guard.  Even if
the building had an AI it shouldn't notice that, unless it noticed two of us.  Advanced
AIs were outlawed since the Tinman War so it shouldn't be too hard.  I am not a
security expert, but I had talked about it a bit with Jeremy, who was.  It
should work and it was easier than my original infiltration method, which
literally took a week and was exhausting as hell.

I
waited at the elevator until a well-dressed man walked in, waving his hand in
front of the scanner.  When he got off, I selected the penthouse as my
destination.  Resisting the urge to hum to myself, I waited for the door to
open.  The first thing I saw was four very well-armed men, in black suits more suited
for the government, in marksmen poses aiming large handheld weapons towards the
elevator door.  We each froze in this tableau for a moment before the two
closest ran into the elevator, frantically looking around.  It would have been
comical to see them practically pat down the wall and search the openings of
the elevator I wasn't even aware of, if I hadn't been so busy contorting my
body to avoid two rather large men in a ten-by-ten-foot room. 

I
finally was able to position myself so I could exit the elevator, and had the
time to examine the men more closely.  They all had very well-camouflaged
implants next to their ear, and wore dark glasses and the suits that the FBI
were infamous for wearing... ninety years ago.  As retro as their clothing was,
the implant and the impressive looking energy pistols they were wielding
convinced me that they may actually be good at what they did, or at least well-financed.

Shaking
my head at the spirited antics of the security group, I concentrated once more
and began the more draining task of bending light around me.  Now that I was on
the penthouse level, there were few enough people that any surveillance would
note someone out of place.  A dull throb began to gather behind my eyes. 
Doubtless, it would become worse before the night was done.

Prepared
now, I explored the floor and found that there was only one significant door. 
I doubted that Kingston was sleeping in the restroom or the security room or
the broom closet.  That narrowed it down to the huge double doors with gold
filigree that lead to the central area of the floor.  I should have been a
detective.

The
door was unlocked.  I suppose that is understandable when you have security
this heavy.  It was also well maintained; it silently eased open the tiny bit I
needed to squeeze inside and then closed with only a near-silent click. 
Apparently, it was noisy enough, because when I looked to the center of the
room I noted a man sitting at one of the hugest mahogany desks I have ever
seen.  He had paused in mid-motion while signing something and was looking to
the door. 

Even
after almost a year, I recognized those features. They were not strong Italian
features you would expect from a mobster... or at least I would expect, having
been exposed to too many old-style gangster movies.  No, before me sat a
slightly pudgy man who appeared in his mid-forties, one who obviously had yet
to partake of the rather common anti-aging geriatric drugs commonly available. 
His hair was thinning, but in spite of the bit of excess weight and lines that
showed every bit of his age, he wasn't a small man and you could almost feel the
confidence oozing from the pores.  As I examined him, I knew part of what I had
to do was shake that confidence. 

I
silently padded over to the guest chair across from the man.  It wasn't hard; my
feet sank deeply into the carpet and the slight whir of the air conditioning
covered up even that minute sound.  I sank down and forced my features to
return to my current identity.  When I was ready, I dropped the forces bending
light and my field of suggestion.

“Hello
Kingston, been a while,” I said calmly.  The mobster scrabbled back in his
chair in obvious unpleasant startlement.  His first action thereafter was to
lunge toward his desk, probably to summon security.  I could have paralyzed him,
but I need him able to interact with me.  It took far more energy than jabbing
his brain, but I gathered the energy to telekinetically stop him in his
tracks. 

He
looked at me and scowled.  I could see an anger burning in his eyes, and it set
his jowls to a slightly undignified quivering.  There was also fear in his expression;
I could sense that radiating off him, but it was almost eclipsed by his rage. 
Wow, he really didn't like me.

“You...”
he growled.

“Yeah,
I guess you do remember more than I thought you would.” I was almost
impressed.  Most people really don't recall much once I wipe their short term
memory and they are catatonic for a week.  “But, honestly can you be that
surprised to see me after hiring an assassin to kill me?”

“He
failed,” the other man ground out. 

“Yes. 
Indeed he did.” I nodded in acknowledgment.  I could feel him strain to escape
my mental grasp.  It wasn't going to happen.  I could lift cars with my mind. 
A supernatural may be able to break my grasp and the psionically talented were
slippery to hold onto, but a mere mortal wasn't going anywhere.

“One
word and my people will be in here and wipe you from existence.”  I really
doubted he had that kind of firepower, but it was time to lead him away from
this path.

“You
can feel my grasp around you.” I theatrically clenched my fist in front of him
and put on what I sincerely hoped was a menacing expression.  It hadn't worked
on the shifter I had captured, but I was hoping to get it right this time.  “At
a mere thought I can grind your bones into a paste.”  I was lying outrageously
at this.  My telekinesis exerts force on an entire object.  It was good for
flinging things around, even cars if I didn't mind exhausting myself, but it
wouldn't crush, cut, or twist.  I suppose I could hang him from his necktie if
focused on the cloth but there are limits to the mental gyrations even someone
as skilled as I could do.

The
emanations of fear were fading.  I cursed under my breath.  Somehow I had given
myself away, because his panic was leaving him.  “But you haven't,” he muttered
as if he had scored a point.  He had a point; I could scarcely deny that if I
was going to kill him, he would have been dead already.

I
sighed as I examined his aura.  It looked much like it had a year ago, with an exception. 
“Hmm, you've changed.”  He glared at me.  “Last time you were a flipping loon. 
Cursing and spitting at me.”

“You'll
find me more of a challenge this time.  I won't forget anything. I've taken
precautions.”

“Hmm,
I cured your insanity but it should have returned without intense therapy.” I
stared at him silently while he looked at me in shock.  I had expected him to
still be a lethal nutcase.  I had never heard of someone with the strength of
will to hold on to their sanity long enough to get help.  This made things
easier in some ways and harder in others.

“It
was you,” breathed in the older man.  “But why...”

“It
wasn't because I loved you,” I muttered.  “Your mind was too twisted to allow
me to do what I needed to do.”

“Rob
me blind,” he huffed, starting to build a full head of steam.

“Actually,
you robbed you blind,” I corrected absently. “I had you transfer it to me in
ways that even you wouldn't be able to trace,” I told him solemnly.  “And you
weren't going to do that when you were as mad as a hatter.  How did you track
me down?  I thought you were the best.  You sure thought so at the time.”

Kingston
scowled at me; his struggling was steadily getting weaker as his fear left.  He
was beginning to think about why I was really here.  “There's always someone
better.  I had to hire her.”

“Well,
interesting as that is.  The main issue is that you hired a vampire to kill
me.  And I don't appreciate that.”

“After
what you did to me you're lucky I don't send an army of assassins after you and
anyone you associate with.”

An
adrenaline rush hit me at that statement.  A huge emotional surge of pure anger
followed.  “If anything happens to them, I'll kill you and everyone in your
organization down to the mail boy!” I shouted, only noticing afterward that I
was half lunging out of the chair, and remains of the chair's armrest was
kindling in my hands.  I took a calming breathe and sat back into the chair,
brushing the splinters from my hands.  I had subconsciously raised Kingston
about three feet in the air during my outburst.  “My friends would prefer it if
I didn't kill anyone.”  I left it unsaid what my own feelings were.

“You
expect me to forget what you did to me,” the gangster blustered.  I could feel
his renewed fear radiating out from him.  Apparently, my very real rage did
what my bluster couldn't do.

“No,
you're remarkably bad at forgetting things,” I nodded towards him.  The very
fact he remembered or was able to put the pieces together to figure out that
something had been done to him made him an exceptional person.

“So
why should I forget that you walked away with almost half a billion credits,”
he sneered.  Damn, keeping this man intimidated was almost impossible.