“Can’t; sorry.”
“You were dead.”
His plaintive tone gave me pause. For someone so intimidating only five minutes ago, he looked like a lost child. It made me want to put him out of his misery.
“Do yourself a favor,” I said, crossing the distance between us in three long strides. “Tell yourself someone broke in and stole the body. It’ll make it easier to sleep at night.”
He blinked. I swung and caught him low in the jaw. The impact jarred my fist and shoulder—Chalice was definitely not a fighter—but Thomas went down like a stone. Two people unconscious in a matter of minutes was not a great start to the day.
No time to ponder the consequences, though. I had a former Handler to find, no idea where to start looking in a city of half a million people, and if anyone else in Chalice Frost’s life knew she was dead, I was in for a very eventful day.
Chapter 2
71:21
I dumped Pat’s car two blocks away from my destination and humped it through one of the nicest neighborhoods in the city to get to Chalice’s building. Uncracked sidewalks, trees with little fences around them, neatly trimmed hedges, and graffiti-less walls surrounded me on all sides. So different from the rest of the city.
Few Dregs crossed the Black River, so I rarely ventured into Parkside East. I certainly couldn’t have afforded the clean, spacious apartments that lined the streets on this side of the river—a slash of concrete and putrid water that divided light from dark, human from Dreg.
During the trip across the river, the gash on my left arm finished its annoying, itchy healing process. A pencil-thin scar remained, the only fading evidence of what Chalice had done to herself. Even the dappling of track marks had disappeared. I checked my belly button. The hole for the gold hoop was gone. Completely healed. So were my earlobes. Weird.
I double-checked the scribbled address against the apartment building, then went inside. The small lobby was tidy and smelled of furniture polish and glass cleaner. Even the elevator smelled fresh and new. I punched the button for the fifth floor and waited for the doors to close, completely lacking a plan for once I got up there. Knock and hope the roommate answered was my best option. Breaking and entering was possible, thanks to my day job. It was just made more difficult by my severe lack of tools to—
A hand jammed its way between the sliding doors and forced it back open. I tensed, instincts preparing me for a fight. A little girl, no more than ten years old, dashed inside, clutching a cloth grocery sack. She flashed me a pink-lipped smile.
“Thanks, Chalice,” she said in a sunny, singsong voice.
Neighbor. Cute kid. “No problem,” I said.
She eyed me over the lip of the sack and a protrusion of potato chips. “Your clothes look funny today.”
“I’m in disguise.” I held one finger to my lips, hoping the child played along. The last thing I needed was a pint-sized shadow, especially if I ended up jimmying the door lock. “Don’t tell anyone you saw me, okay?”
“Like a game?” Her round eyes widened, delighted at having a secret with an adult.
“Absolutely like a game.”
She giggled and nodded, her blond hair swishing around her cherubic cheeks. She shifted the bag into one arm and pretended to turn an invisible key in front of her mouth.
“That’s my girl,” I said.
As each floor lit up and passed us by, my anxiety mounted. She hadn’t gotten off yet. Please, let her live on one of the floors above.
The elevator dinged on the fifth floor. I stepped out, and she followed. The corridor branched left and right, but had no signs indicating which numbers lay in which direction. I glanced at the plates on the two nearest doors: 508 on the left and 509 on the right. Chalice lived in 505, so I took a chance and turned left.
The little girl followed, still grinning like a lunatic, and stopped in front of 506. No wonder she seemed so friendly. We were neighbors.
They were neighbors.
Whatever.
She watched intently while I stared dumbly at an apartment I’d never seen, in a body that wasn’t mine. I tossed her a sunny smile, turned the knob, and made a show of surprise. “Well, darn it,” I said. “That’s not supposed to be locked.”
“Where are your keys?” she asked.
“I must have lost them. That was pretty silly of me, huh?” I turned, pretending to leave.
“You gave my mom a key.”
“Yeah, when you and Alex were both gone a week last summer, we came over to water the plants. I’ll get it!”
She was inside her apartment before I could respond, and back in seconds, sans groceries. She proudly displayed the round, copper key. “There, see?” she said.
“You’re a lifesaver.” I plucked the key from her small fingers.
“Grape or cherry?”
I blinked. “What?”
She grinned as if this was our own private joke. “What flavor Lifesaver, silly?”
“Definitely cherry.”
She bounced, giggled, and let the euphoria dance her back into her own apartment. The door finally closed and stayed that way.
I pushed the key into the dead bolt, turned it, and the solid wood door opened. I stepped inside and closed the door.
The immediate odor of stale beer surprised me. I stood on the edge of a spacious, well-decorated living room. A matching striped sofa and chair coordinated with the dark wood tables. Lamp shades matched the shade of the throw rug. Framed prints of ocean scenes decorated the walls. It wasn’t expensive, but definitely tasteful.
An open kitchen with eating counter was situated on the right side of the apartment. Directly ahead, sliding glass doors gave way to a patio of some sort, hidden behind gauzy mauve curtains. Three doors lined the left wall. Chalice’s room lay behind one of them.
In the kitchen, a garbage can was overflowing with glass beer bottles. Two empty cases sat on the floor next to it. No other party evidence pointed to a recent, serious bender. A troubling thought.
A framed photograph lay facedown on the counter. I lifted it. My new face smiled back at me, happy and whole, arms around the shoulders of a very handsome man. He had vivid blue eyes, brown hair, and a cocky smile. Boyfriend? Brother? Hairstylist?
I wished for some of Chalice’s memories; it would make this part a lot easier. Of course, I didn’t really want a dead woman’s consciousness vying for control of this body. I had enough things to deal with without adding multiple personality disorder to the mix.
Door number one concealed an ivory and blue room with plain oak furniture, a desk covered with books, and very little in the way of personal items. Very male, and very likely not Chalice’s. The middle door was the bathroom, squeaky clean and organized. Toothbrushes in the holder, no water marks on the mirror or dry toothpaste blobs in the sink. Chalice and her roommate must have been like-minded neat freaks to keep an apartment so tidy.
The third door opened easily, and I stepped into an unfamiliar world—a world of white carpet and pink- flowered wallpaper. Pink and red pillows rested on a white bedspread, and red curtains bracketed the room’s single window. An enormous painting of a vase of flowers covered most of the wall above a whitewashed desk. Every stick of furniture in the room was painted white. Stuffed animals lined a shelf high on the wall—bears and cats and puppies and pigs.
