Death Cultivator 2 by eden Hudson (books to read in your 20s .TXT) 📗

one. That was how it’d gone when Dad got sent to prison. I’d had friends before Thanksgiving break, and when I got back to school after the break, I had no friends. Rali was just leading the pack this time.

I gulped down some Coffee Drank, which I already knew was a mistake; I didn’t need the caffeine angst on top of everything else, but after a night spent fighting ferals and working out instead of sleeping, I was starting to crash.

Warcry scooped up another massive chopstick full of sticky rice.

“Bad news fish incoming,” he said, nodding over my shoulder.

I twisted around in my seat. Biggerstaff was headed over, wearing one of his fancy pinstriped suits.

He nodded his wide catfish head to us, then turned to Kest. “Miss Iye Skal, you’re just the artificer I wanted to see. I heard you got an updated offer from the Technols.”

“I should’ve known you’d have bugs planted around the outside of the Heartchamber.” She finished up whatever she’d been doing on her HUD, then looked up at the recruiter. “I guess you know I slagged the ones I found in my and Rali’s rooms?”

“Security mentioned they were offline.” Biggerstaff pulled a black coin out of his suit pocket and tossed it to Kest. “Hang on to that for a minute.”

She frowned down at it. “A silencer?”

Biggerstaff nodded. “I want an opportunity to outbid the Technols without them listening in. I understand that they’re your first choice, but they’re still undercutting your demands. Not something a gang who truly appreciated your potential would do. Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen, no negotiation.”

“At least put a lure on the hook, dress it up a little,” Warcry sneered. “Don’t insult her intelligence.”

But Kest just sat back in her chair and sized up the catfish like she was trying to decide how much she could get away with asking for.

Biggerstaff seemed to take that as encouragement to keep talking. “The probationary mission the Technols are about to send you on is to Shinotochi-Ryu, a planet under Eight-Legged Dragon control. In fact, the whole Shinotochi System is ours. The Technols haven’t made any sort of requests to the Dragons, so obviously they plan on sneaking in. Shogun Genkei wants to know why.”

“You want me to spy for you.” Kest turned the silencer coin over in her cinnabar hand, then made it walk across the backs of her stick fingers in a series of clinks. “That’s why you didn’t want them listening in on your offer.”

Biggerstaff opened his arms like You caught me.

“All right.” She closed her metal fingers over the silencer. “I want my probationary period along with all required fights waived, a genuine Master Artificer Certification of at least Grade 9 from a CPA-approved guild, my own workshop, an unlimited materials budget separate from my salary, and a starting salary of seventy-five thousand credits a year. Which you can prorate since this year’s almost over.”

My eyes bugged out. That seemed like a well-thought-out wish list. Maybe they were the starting demands she’d sent to the Technols.

But Biggerstaff didn’t even blink. “Would you like your credits paid by the local or universal year?”

“Wherever I’m at in the galaxy, the full amount should be deposited the first day of each Van Diemann New Year,” she said.

Biggerstaff punched some stuff into his HUD.

“Transfer done,” he said. “And the certification will be here within the week.”

Kest’s jaw dropped, all her cool gone. “Are you serious?”

“Don’t get all excited, netskin,” Warcry said. “All that means is this cove thinks you’re gonna die spying for him, so he won’t have to pay ya.”

She shrugged. “I’d die for that kind of money.”

“I, for one, don’t actually think she’ll die,” Biggerstaff said.

“Then what’re you doing all this for?” I asked, sitting forward. “None of it seems legit.”

“In war, it’s usually the most well-equipped army that wins,” Biggerstaff said. “Artificers have long been overlooked by our organization as ‘a Technol problem,’ but that’s about to change.” He looked back to Kest. “Tell the truth, though, I’d like to have the Selken set. When you see your twin again, Miss Iye Skal, tell him I’ll match his price, too, whatever it might be.”

“He won’t take it,” she said absently. Her eyes were a million miles away, probably already spending the money.

“Kest, seriously,” I said, the caffeine anxiety really starting to kick in. “You don’t see this going wrong, like, right off the bat? You’re not exactly the most subtle person in the world.”

“That’s what makes me the perfect candidate for spying,” she said, snapping back to the present. “Metal heads are too straightforward. No one would suspect us of subterfuge.”

“Hit the nail on the head,” Biggerstaff said.

“Metal always does.” Kest stood up and stuck out her real hand, palm up. “Obviously you can’t put the terms into a written offer I can sign until this is all over or the Technols might find it. I’ll take your highest favor card instead.”

Biggerstaff pulled a thin gold card out of his jacket and gave it to her. “That’s my unconditional bond. Don’t lose it.”

“I won’t.” She disappeared the card in her storage ring.

“And of course, I’ll need some sort of bond from you in return to prove you’re not going to sell me out to the Technols,” Biggerstaff said.

Kest put the storage ring to her forehead again and said, “Crest of the Traitor.”

A sky-blue opal the size of a robin’s egg appeared in her hand, shot through with flecks of glinting orange fire. For a second, Kest just stared down at it, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“It’s the only thing my grandparents were allowed to bring with them from Selk.” She swallowed hard. “It represents a blinded eye, put out for conspiring against the ruler. It was supposed to show their disgrace to any Selken they met, but my nona said only pride comes from suffering shame for doing the right thing.” With a deep breath, Kest handed the opal to Biggerstaff. “Please keep