Salvation's Kiss (Tales Of Mython Book 1) by Kathryn Jayne (old books to read .TXT) 📗

of course, as soon as we know anything,” she reassured the caller, lowering her device with a pained sigh.

“Who’s Lex?” Conrad questioned. He leant forward, making an effort to unclench his fists.

“Ashley’s brother.” She raised her hand, stopping further questions. “I’ve been keeping him updated on how she’s doing while he’s away,” she explained. “He’s part of the task force on the other side of the barrier. Your father managed to get a message to him, he’s heading back.” She glanced outside, but before Conrad could ask anything more she spoke again. “Okay, Will, we’re almost in position. Are you ready?”

“Drop me here,” he muttered. “I’ll walk the rest of the way. I’m sure the Blue Coats will know your car since you’ve been told to stay away.” Conrad hated that something logical had come from his offensive mouth. But he had a point. His father would have alerted whoever would be watching the Taphouse, and he knew Conrad would not be able to sit idly by. Which was why he was sporting the ridiculous-looking cap, for when he had to do his part.

“Don’t screw this up, you’ve already caused enough trouble.” Conrad glared at him as he stepped from the car. When this was over, when Ashley was safe in his arms, Will had better watch his back.

The Taphouse waiting room was packed. While normally quiet this early, it was the start of a weekend and everyone wanted some extra drinking money, a way to continue the party beyond their budget. The overwhelming scent of alcohol drifted from a group of teenagers in the corner, the heavy odour tainting the air as the girls busted out the latest provocative dance moves to the music blaring from their device, making them seem more like private lap dancers to their male counterparts. Not that they were complaining.

“You, out! I’ve told you before, no underage drinkers. This is your last warning. You come here again and it’ll be the Blue Coats escorting you out, not me.” Whitney clicked her fingers twice towards the group, before pointing towards the door, left ajar in the hope of clearing the drunken stench they carried with them. One of the young men jerked aggressively towards Whitney as he passed, uttering curses and threats. Instead of the intended startle he expected, his effort was rewarded with a clip across the back of the head that shocked him into silence.

Whitney scanned the waiting room, her expression brightening as her gaze fell on Will. “Liam7,” she called, gesturing him inside. He glanced towards the waiting patrons, knowing he was skipping the queue. Linking her arm through his, she escorted him towards the only empty booth. “Okay, you know the drill.”

He produced his finger, noticing her usually friendly smile was bearing the weight of an unpleasant evening. He extended his finger, flinching as the sharp needle pricked his flesh. His reaction brought a genuine smile to her face as her musical laughter filled the air.

“I don’t get you,” Whitney said. “You’ll sit for hours with those the syphons and don’t even blink, but one little prick and you jump out of your skin.” The small tab affixed to her device chimed, letting them know the reading was ready. “So today you’re MA+MI72,” she advised. “To be honest, I didn’t think you’d make the count so soon, but you’re looking good. Do you have a limit, or do you want to run like last time?” There was something about the way she looked at him that made him feel exposed. A light frown creased her brow, but it was dispelled within a moment.

“Can we see how it goes?”

“Sure.”

“Who’s in today? Any new faces?” Will pried, glancing between the booths.

“You know we don’t discuss…”

“I don’t mean names. I was just wondering what my competition was like,” he hastened to add, knowing if Ashley was here somewhere, even unseen, her ranking would give her away in a heartbeat.

“Ah, well, you can rest assured, no one here has anything on you.” She winked.

“Historically, or tonight?”

“Need an ego boost, do we?” she teased. “You’re the highest for about a decade. We had one guy, years back, around your range. Real fitness nut, big muscles and an ego to match. But why don’t you just ask me what you want to?”

“What do you mean?”

“I am part of the screening process for a reason.” She tapped her temple.

“You’re a telepath?” Will felt the heat flush across his face, now understanding the strange expression he had seen just moments ago.

“Of sorts.”

“Then, can you answer my question?” Not wanting to voice anything so incriminating aloud, he put extra effort into projecting his thought.

Whitney winced, the same way someone did when someone had shouted in their ear. He watched her eyes study their surroundings as if to ensure they had complete privacy. “There’s no one I know of higher than you, but the Elite seemed excited about something. Not that I have access, but I can feel something even from here.” Catching his next thought, she continued to answer. “I’m not sure about the missing people, but a number of them were in our systems.” She glanced around again. “I can’t say any more, except perhaps that I have heard rumours of a Black Card Menu. Although I’ve never been able to prove anything.”

“What’s that?”

“Rumour has it the Elite get their own menu as well,” she whispered, attaching the first of the syphons. “I can’t be certain, because people in there know how to shield their thoughts, mostly. I did hear rumour of Tabus—you know, people who have other less kosher substances in their blood. Of course, that practise is illegal and I’ve found no evidence of it happening here, after all, you can’t really call the stray thoughts of blood-drunk Elites evidence.”

“So, if they have a source beyond us common folk, where would their donors be? Are they on site, or is it shipped in?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know.” She squeezed his hand gently. “I hope