The Taste Of Night

2

Portals are to the supernatural realm what dreams are to the subconscious, ways to access an alternate reality. Everyone encounters these supernatural gateways at one time or another, usually in the form of an elevator skipping the floor of a button you know you just pushed, or the feeling of being watched out of a window that is, by all accounts, empty. Small things, mostly, but ones hiding an entire world behind their impenetrable cores.

Needless to say, humans were personae non grata in the supernatural realm. Portals were…unstable. Even an agent didn’t always know what lurked on the other side. Sometimes you didn’t want to know.

In this case, however, I needed to get to the danger awaiting me on that side of reality, and to do so I climbed the stairwell to the roof, disconnected the alarm, and exited there. Sure, there were active portals inside the casino, but I didn’t have time to look for one now, and there was always one located at the apex of a giant building-something having to do with the mechanics of superstrings-so that was the one I beelined for.

The lights of Vegas were on full throttle, but I ignored the sight and pulled my conduit from my bag. The flathead of the crossbow shone like polished onyx in the reflected light, and the wire string gleamed thin and dangerous as I thumbed off the safety. Its weight in my palm warmed me even more than the balmy late-spring night, and I quickly located the tiny variable star winking like a diamond chip above a maintenance hatch and reentered the building.

The greatest difference between the real world and this alternate one was the silver-gray tint smearing the entire landscape, obscuring everything that wasn’t an agent’s aura in a dull, hazy, shroud. Texture and weight played a factor in the depth of color, so buildings were denser than cars, and birds and butterflies were only the lightest shade of smoke. People could be ashen or silvered, depending on their mood: this was a mirrored world, the earth in negative, a place that divided light and shadow down to its most basic structure. Even the air carried that clouded tint into your lungs, the ions and electrodes laid bare so that each breath tasted metallic.

Yet all the natural rules still applied, which was why I still had to run when chased by Shadows, and I still had to dodge people and objects, and basically avoid those who operated in the real world. We could still be seen by mortals, though perhaps a better word was sensed. It wasn’t an entirely comfortable feeling to brush up against an agent operating in the supernatural realm, rather like biting down on a wad of tinfoil, and feeling that ache in every limb, pore, and soaring cell of your body. Without even realizing they were doing it, mortals would step aside when I brushed too close, or quickly look away if we happened to make eye contact. Because I had no pigment to attract the eye, they seemed to feel a touch of vertigo if I was too near, and-to the amusement of some of our more immature agents-were easily unbalanced.

Once I was back in the main casino, I inhaled sharply, searching out the skein of scent Liam had so thoughtfully provided. Now that I was on the negative side of reality, I had a visual tell too: here an agent’s aura could be read like a psychic map, a bright splash of color amid all the shades of gray.

Weeks ago I’d had the ability to read the moods and temperaments of agents and mortals alike, and I’d thought it was a part of my nifty hey-look-it’s-the-Kairos package. But apparently my powers were more of the use-it-or-lose-it variety. Outside the portals now I could view only the auras of those agents with the strongest and most inflexible wills, and I couldn’t discern human auras at all.

So I searched throughout the achromatic gloom for something similar to the rosy Technicolor streaming behind and around my body and moved quickly through the casino, the mortals around me unaware of my presence, though the zombies feeding cash into the slot machines probably wouldn’t have looked up anyway.

I’d just passed the main casino cage when the air reverberated around me, the stench of decay strong enough to prickle my skin. I swung around and spotted a zephyrous streak of blood orange rounding a far corner, followed by a stark white void erasing the silvery light. It was like a bright spattering of paint next to an empty space on a contemporary artist’s fresh canvas, and the scent of mold hit me as a giggle floated my way.

I raced around the corner to find Liam’s shadow splayed on an adjoining wall, backlit and straining forward. Then the shadow retracted, elongating and snapping, before disappearing entirely from view. I began running again.

I followed Liam’s scent past the empty sports book and packed poker room. I wasn’t worried about the casino’s security cameras tracking my movements-they couldn’t on this side of reality-but I did start worrying when the tangerine aura vanished under a doorway situated beneath a bank of escalators. Damn. He’d crossed back over into the mortal realm, taking his visual tell with him. If I wanted to pick up his olfactory trail again, I’d have to do the same.

“C’mon, there has to be another one,” I muttered, and began scanning the casino’s perimeter. Hoping I wouldn’t have to go back outside to find another portal, I moved quickly among the slot banks, keeping to the walls as much as possible. I was scouring the buffet line, which was doing a surprisingly brisk business for ten o’clock at night, when I ran into a security guard. Literally.

“Ow,” I said, rubbing my forehead with one hand while I discreetly slipped my conduit behind my back with the other.

“The fuck you doin’ here?” he said, mouth barely moving. I smiled up at him, more relieved than I cared to admit to see a familiar-if not altogether friendly-face.

Hunter Lorenzo was one of ours, and as close to an ideal image of a superhero as one could get. Thing was, he wasn’t a cartoon, and it wasn’t an act. He was the troop’s weaponeer and head tactician, and had artistic hands-though he practiced a violent art-and a hooded, if sure, intelligence. I could still see his aura on this side of reality; banners of gold and white splaying out around him-typical superhero fare. He wore his clothing like armor, and moved so effortlessly he made a cat look clumsy. His thick, shoulder-length hair had recently been shorn into a severe military cut, a move I’d privately lamented, but it made his brooding brown eyes even more intense.

Hunter and I had butted heads from the first-I had the scars from his conduit to prove it-and a bit of that friction still remained…but then something else had happened. We’d briefly shared a power that had made us temporarily invincible-the aureole-but doing so had left us knowing more of each other than either of us was comfortable with because it was an unearned intimacy. I didn’t know his middle name or his favorite color, but I knew how his thoughts felt caressing my mind. The bright tang of his adrenaline coursing under my skin. The force of his heart, strong and rhythmic and a bit sad, pumping within my own chest.

We’d been in the same room only a handful of times in the ensuing months, a mutual choice, and never alone. Fact was, I was attracted to Hunter when I didn’t want to be. My heart belonged to another, and always would. Besides, paranormal Boy Scout that he was, if I had only one word to sum up Hunter, it would be feral.

“You shouldn’t stand around talking to yourself, Hunter,” I told him, motioning to the cameras mounted like shining black half moons on the ceiling above us. “It might look suspicious.”

“Warren’s going to be pissed when he finds out you slipped through a portal without permission.”

“It was an accident. I was looking for the bathroom.” He glanced at me sharply, then looked away, obviously scouring the walls for a portal, which made my pulse trip faster. Sure, that’s what I was doing too, and I could probably use the help, but if Hunter knew the Shadows had found out who I really was, my identity would be altered so fast I wouldn’t even have time to say, Good-bye Olivia.

Besides, I hated all that domineering alpha male shit…even if Hunter did wear it well.

I crossed my arms over my chest and gave him a wry look. “What’s the big deal, Hunter? Only agents can see me, and when was the last time you saw a Shadow agent wandering these sacred halls, huh? It’s been weeks, months.” Minutes.

He did look at me then, dead on, his eyes cool and hard on my face. “Your aura’s bleeding into this reality, Olivia.”

“What?” I looked around me, swallowing hard when I spotted a Kool-Aid stain pooling onto the carpet. “How?”

From the way Hunter was shielding my body, I could tell the color was visible to the mortal eye. Yes, we existed to protect them…but they weren’t supposed to know it.

Hunter pulled his radio from his belt, looked around, and pretended to speak into it. “I don’t know. The Tulpa must have installed a new security system on that side. We have to get you back through a portal, and quick.”

“Which is what I was trying to do when you pulled the whole rent-a-cop routine.” I lifted my arm, watched color waft beneath my left pit. “Shit.”

“This way.”

We pushed past the crowd gathered around the blackjack tables, skirted the baccarat lounge, and barely escaped an excited throng gathering for a slot tournament. All this took a full minute, a minute in which I was aware of my aura slowly oozing into the mortal plane like a leaky tire. Thank God the carpeting in Vegas casinos was made to stand such things. Though the same couldn’t be said for the cream-colored walls around me.

“Hurry,” I told Hunter, my voice quavering involuntarily. Hunter feinted right suddenly, arm snaking back to grab my wrist, yanking me behind him. From behind a slot bank I spotted two other security guards. Hunter followed them with his eyes until they passed.

“They see us?” I asked, straining around him.

“Every time you speak, color spews from your mouth. Shut up.”

He started moving again, and I followed. Quietly.

We finally made it to a recessed doorway where a gently pulsing star marked a portal’s entry. No shout of alarm rose behind us, no Shadows were ahead to greet us. I’d deliberately slowed my breathing to try and minimize the seepage, and I was feeling a bit like I’d been under water too long. Crouching low, I let out the breath I’d been holding before sucking in another. When I stood again, I found myself two inches away from Hunter’s chest.

“Sorry,” I muttered feebly. I’d put him in danger. Again.

“Go,” he said, blocking a visual of the doorway with his body. “Then get out of Valhalla.”

It wasn’t the steel in his voice that propelled me through the archway, or the risk of detection a few seconds more would have cost me. It was the look on his face just before he tore his gaze away; his eyes searching mine before lowering to linger on my mouth, then dropping to my throat, which forced me to swallow hard, and then lower still. Feral. We turned away from each other at the same time, the air crackling between us like charred satin, and I dove through the portal. It was safer, I thought, in the shadows.

I found myself thrust into a pitch-black room. Always comforting. At least Hunter couldn’t just open the door I’d entered and find me back in living color, aura-less, waiting on the other side. He’d probably have thrown me out of Valhalla himself. I tried to gain my bearings, edging forward, my footsteps echoing on linoleum. A fairly large room, then, probably storage. I felt along the wall, reaching a second doorway before long, and ran my palm along the right side until I found a switch. I didn’t flip it on immediately, instead yanking my conduit from my bag again, crouching low in a readied stance. Then I flipped it on.

Two liquid brown eyes stared at me through the crosshairs of my weapon.

The owner of the eyes screamed, and I screamed back.

“Oh shit. Shit!” Heart pounding, I fell back against the wall. The beast across from me began shaking its cage, the sound lost in a cacophony of agitated screeches and cage rattling by the room’s other inhabitants. I took a quick look around-obviously a lab of some sort-then did the only thing I could think of when faced with a roomful of shrieking chimpanzees. I flipped the light back off, felt for the door handle, and got out of primate hell.

I’d entered a softly lit anteroom, the middle cleared for foot traffic, with a U-shaped reception desk off to one side and a sofa and coffee table opposite that. The beasts continued their muffled screeches behind me while I tried to figure out where to go next, wondering what the hell monkeys were doing in a casino, when I heard the pounding of footsteps. I sniffed-two mortals-and ducked behind the couch just before they appeared.

I watched them launch themselves down the staircase, dressed in civilian wear, but athletically trim, sporting buzz cuts…and military-issue guns trained on the door before them. They communicated in sign language and entered the door in tandem, a well-practiced team. Not, I thought, regular security guards hired off the street. The monkeys went crazy once again, and I could’ve used the opportunity to escape up the stairs, but something held me back. Curiosity, perhaps. Stupidity, more likely.

“Fuckin’ chimps,” one of the men muttered as he slammed the door behind him a few moments later, muting the cries circulating from inside…though not much. I palmed my conduit in case they decided to search this room too, but relaxed marginally as I scented annoyance and laziness overtake the martial interest that had propelled them down here. “We can’t come running every time those fuckers have a coronary over their own shadows.”

“Actually, chimpanzees are the smartest primates alive, besides humans. Their closest relation is to us, not gorillas or orangutans, so they can make tools, be taught to communicate, and they possess similar emotions to our own.”

“What are you, a fuckin’ encyclopedia?” I heard a smack, and a pained exclamation from the smaller man before he came into view, rubbing the back of his head.

“I’m just sayin’. I’ve been reading the books the professor gave us-”

“Chimpanzees for Dummies,” the first man scoffed.

“-and it’s really interesting. Did you know they enjoy lifelong bonds with their mothers?”

“Yeah, well, I shoot mine a card on Christmas and her birthday. Guess we’re not all that closely related after all. Let’s go.”

“Shouldn’t we look around a bit more?”

“Be my guest, Dr. Dolittle, but I’m not missing the playoffs for no fuckin’ monkey.”

Dolittle, seeing his point, sighed and followed.

I remained where I was a few minutes after their boot-clad steps faded away, more alarmed by this than I would’ve been a few months ago. I’d watched enough of the Discovery Channel to know that labs and chimps meant experiments. Experiments meant science. And science was what the supernaturals used to augment their magic to more easily manipulate the mortal world. So what was a lab full of primates-primates that most closely resembled humans, I now knew-doing in a casino on the Las Vegas Strip? And why were soldiers-mortals, sure, but armed nonetheless-guarding them? Somehow I thought I could rule out coincidence as a viable option, but maybe Hunter would know what was going on. I’d ask him later…or perhaps I’d come back again on my own.

For now, however, both guards and monkeys had to wait. I was in search of a Shadow.