Playing with Passion Theta Series Book 1 (17 page)

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

While Gene got them coffee from one
of the vendors inside the ferry building, Ingrid made herself
comfortable on a bench along the promenade. From here, she had a
spectacular view of the Manhattan skyline and the Statue of
Liberty, the former green lady's torch still rising to greet the
poor and downtrodden. A sad joke. The Director had almost pulled
her down, but in the end, decided it was a harmless symbol of past
times and not worth the energy to destroy. He’d had her painted
red, a color he favored, to remind everyone who ran this
town.

It was still light outside, the pinks
and oranges of the coming sunset beginning to paint the sky over
New Jersey to the west. The colors were reflected off the glass of
some of the high-rise office buildings at Manhattan’s tip, making
them look unreal, like set pieces in a show.

Sometimes she felt like
she was the only sane creature on the planet.
That fucking archdemon owns your city, yet all of you walk
around in a dream, as if you’re still free. Wise up, people. Start
fighting back.

Mack had given Gene and Ingrid
permission to go wherever they wanted on Staten Island, as long as
Ingrid was with Gene the entire time. No wandering off on her own.
Gene had suggested they sit and talk for a while before dinner, and
since this spot was within walking distance from the troupe house,
it seemed as good a place as any.

A minute later, she heard Gene's
laugh, the handsome features he'd chosen blending well with his now
much-darker skin. "I almost sat down next to that other girl." He
pointed two benches down the row. "I forgot what you looked like in
your après morphing body." He handed her the warm vanilla latte. It
smelled like heaven. "That's the problem with morphing. Have a
brain fart and you're lost."

She took a sip and watched as he
relaxed against the backrest of the bench, one arm stretched and
resting behind her shoulders. Even in his disguise, Ingrid would be
able to find him in a crowd of a thousand. Gene had a unique rhythm
to his energy that always made her smile. Most thetas weren't aware
they could sense each other's pulse with a little practice. It
would be an easy skill to teach them and could come in
handy.

She glanced at the girl he'd
indicated. "Go ahead, you might get lucky. She's cute.” His amused
expression hit her like a stack of bricks. He was already getting
lucky tonight. At least that was the way rebooting usually worked.
Her stomach rolled over. She put her drink on the edge of the
bench, thinking coffee had been a bad idea.

With a blast from the air horn, the
orange three-decker ferry pulled out of its slip carrying thousands
of passengers, the lucky ones looking forward to a decent night
out, others heading across the harbor to work their second or third
job in order to put food on the table. She’d seen a few females
pass by who were dressed in scanty attire, probably heading to the
blood clubs, not realizing what really lay in wait beneath a
vampire's sexy smile.

"Will you tell me about Atlanta?" Gene
whispered.

The question got her attention,
surprising her. “I don't like to talk about it. Mack told you not
to ask."

He shrugged. "I thought maybe you’d
like to talk about it with a friend. No pressure.” The wind was
blowing harder now, Ingrid’s straight black hair flying into her
face. "You should have picked a shorter style. That’s gonna be
bugging you all night."

Gene tucked a clump behind her ear,
tugging down her knit hat to hold it in place. It was chilly along
the waterfront, much cooler and windier than it was by the troupe
house.

"New York weather is
weird."

"Sure is."

“Feels angry, like me.”

“You think of yourself as an angry
person?”

“Mack thinks so.” Her hands moved
restlessly in her lap.

Gene took one hand in his. “You’re
lonely and you’ve been hurt.”

“You too, but you don’t seem angry
about it.”

“My anger is the slow-burning kind. I
never let it flare up around people I care about.”

“So we're friends?"

"I hope so." Gene smiled.

"Maybe I’ll tell you about Atlanta one
day.”

"Fair enough."

Gene had a rare gift.
She'd never met anyone who could use
Influence
so smoothly, a power that
most of the higher-ups didn't know thetas possessed. Gene charmed
everyone with simply a smile and a twinge of power—totally against
the rules, but hey, who was she to talk? He’d used it on waiters
and cab drivers when they’d gone on their date, always receiving
the best service. It was a harmless employment of power, a power
that could be used in a much more sinister way.

Ingrid considered the situation for a
minute or two. A friend could ask a friend for help,
right?

"You look like you're planning
something devious. Spill.” Gene was grinning.

"I'm wondering how good a friend you
really are."

Gene tilted his head and narrowed his
eyes. "Depends. Mack’s taken good care of me. In another troupe, I
would have been more vulnerable, just so much fresh meat. Our last
Ingrid was only nineteen when I was placed here at sixteen. She was
sweet and gentle and we…” He stopped, shrugging away whatever he’d
been about to say. “Until meeting you, Mack and my former Ingrid
are the only two thetas I'd ever considered to be real
friends."

"I seem to recall a recent
comment regarding
our
friendship."

“I know you're working on something
The Director won't be happy about. I'm not going to sign up for
some mission that could get us all killed."

"You're smart, Gene."

"I hear a
but
approaching."

"I need your brain, Sherlock, I need
your help. You and Mack."

He hissed air between his teeth.
"Spell it out, sugar. I won't rat on you, even if I refuse to go
along with the deal."

That's my
boy
. She grinned. "I'll tell you
everything back at the house, but right now, I'm famished. Can we
eat already?"

“We’ll stay local tonight. It’ll give
us more time later.” The sexy smile reminded her that he expected
more than simply talk back in her room.

“Is there any good Mexican food around
here?” She wanted time to prepare her argument. She’d been
unprepared with Mack, and it had ended up an epic fail. Well,
almost.

“Si, si
Señorita. Muy delicioso.”

They walked hand in hand in the
direction of his favorite local restaurant, the people passing them
on the street giving them a wide berth.

"Ever think about how weird it is that
a lot of humans can sense we're not human——even with the awesome
disguise? Wolves and vamps can’t tell ‘cause we mask our scents,
but humans usually seem to know instantly," Ingrid commented
quietly.

"Guess I never thought about it. Maybe
it’s like a mother always knowing her own child."

"A hundred and fifty years ago humans
were on top. Now they're dying out, suffering." A pale woman
gathered her young daughter into her arms and quickly crossed the
street, avoiding the two disguised thetas. "I don't want them to be
afraid of us. We should look out for them. No one else does. When
Gene Stone and I went out in Atlanta, we'd buy food and deliver it
to shelters."

Gene pecked her on the cheek. "Who
knew there was a softy under all that smartass?”

Ingrid elbowed him in the ribs,
giggling. "Don't you dare ruin my rep."

Passing the doorway of a boarded-up
building, Ingrid noticed a man slumped on the ground. She crouched
to see if he was hurt, but Gene grabbed her back against him. “What
are you doing?” He sounded alarmed.

“I want to see if he’s
okay.”

"He could be violent—even have a
weapon."

"Please. He might need medical help."
After a glimpse at her determined expression, Gene released her
with a scowl. She rested on one knee and felt for a pulse at his
wrist. It was steady, but the male's skin was cold and clammy to
the touch.

The man jerked suddenly awake,
startling her. He was younger than she’d thought at first, probably
only around her age, and was dressed in ripped jeans and a worn tee
shirt. But he was slim, maybe underfed, and his tired blue eyes
held years of sorrow, much more than he should have experienced in
his young life.

The man widened his eyes in shock when
he saw her clearly. “You really a theta?” She glanced up at Gene
whose wide eyes told her he was as surprised as the stranger was.
She nodded. No reason to hide it now. “Guess I must be dyin'." The
young man rubbed his face and scooted backward as far as he
could.

"Do you need to see a doctor?" she
asked.

"No, and I don’t need a fantasy
either." He stroked his arms to warm up and narrowed his gaze.
"Could use a hot meal. And a job would be even better." He tried to
stand, but didn't succeed. "Not that either of you give a
shit.”

Ingrid ignored his comment and fished
a granola bar out of her purse. “We’ll get you something better to
eat in a few minutes. What’s your name?”

“Johnny.” He snatched it from her
hand, wolfing it down in two bites. “My whole family’s hungry,” he
mumbled as he chewed.

“Do you live near here? I’ll have food
delivered to your house.”

Johnny's expression turned wary.
"Yeah, and when the demons show up to kill us, will you get brownie
points or somethin'?"

"You can trust us."

"Why would they come after you?" Gene
asked.

He shrugged. "I had the unmitigated
gall to talk to the troupe thetas who live in the big house off
Henderson Street."

"Unmitigated gall, huh?" Gene's
expression had turned scrutinizing.

"We ain't all
uneducated,
trouper
. 'Course, Dr. Dirt wouldn't like you talkin’ to me, neither,
would he?"

"Dr. Dirt?" Gene laughed.

"The Director asshole you troupers bow
down to."

"We don't bow down to him." Ingrid
snapped.

"Uh huh. Tell me another
one."

Ingrid poked his shoulder. “Full name.
Address. Now. I'll send enough for four."

"Six."

"For someone really hungry, you’re
sure particular. Fine." She laughed at the size of his balls. This
guy wasn't afraid of her. She liked that about him.

He gave them the information, on the
condition they didn't write it down, which wasn't a problem since
Gene was one of those never-forget-anything-guys. They helped him
stand and Ingrid reached out to feel his forehead, thinking he
might have a fever. He jumped back a few steps, suddenly
afraid.

"Wait. I’m sorry. I wanted to see if
you had a temperature.”

She dug in her purse and pulled out
the envelope of cash she carried with her whenever she went out, a
habit she'd gotten into with Gene Stone.

"No drugs. No gambling. This is for
food, medicine or anything else that's necessary for survival.
Understand?" Johnny nodded, his mouth hanging open and his gaze
glued to the envelope. "It’s spelled, so I'll know if you spend it
badly." Hopefully, he'd believe the lie.

"Whatever's in that envelope is gonna
save some lives, Ma'am. I won’t waste one cent."

“Ma'am? That’s a lot nicer than
trouper.” His attitude had done a one-eighty.

Johnny shrugged. “You’re a lot nicer
too, now that you’re giving me a wad of cash.”

She and Gene both laughed. “You know
where our house is?" He nodded again. "Come by tomorrow and ask for
Alan. He’ll make sure you get a job somewhere.”

Johnny finally smiled, a dimple
appearing like magic by the right corner of his mouth. He brushed
off his clothes, embarrassed. “Figures I'd meet the most beautiful
ingénue in the country when I look like shit and smell even
worse."

"How do you know which actor I am? I
could be the male diva for all you know." Humans might not know
that thetas could change their sex when they morphed.

"We have an underground e-mag. You and
Gene Stone saved a lot of lives in Atlanta. What other theta could
you be?”

But we’re disguised,” Gene
protested.

Johnny laughed. “And walking down the
street like you own it. Humans walk in fear. Always. You wanna look
human? Look scared.” A crease formed between his brows. “Why do you
come out to help people, anyway? It's dangerous."

“Because no one should go hungry or
have to live in a cardboard box or watch their kid die of some
treatable illness. A mother and father shouldn't have to hand
over...hand over their kids...” Gene pulled her closer, rubbing her
back, comforting her in that sweet way he had.

Johnny stared at Ingrid for a brief
moment, eye to eye, maybe making some kind of decision. "Thank
you.” He took the envelope, nodded at Gene and ran off,
disappearing around a pair of oak trees on the corner.