"No?"
"No. The Pure Bloods came from another world, like you, only theirs was — or is — much farther away. From what the legends say, they were driven into exile by the Kloog, a race far more powerful than they. The Pure Bloods fled here and established their base where the City of Night now stands. It expanded over time and they dominated the dark side of the world. Gradually their power declined." Her lips twisted. "They're losing their technology, and they bring more slaves through the Portal to compensate. Nowadays the slaves outnumber the bastards by a wide margin. Some slaves escape and find their way to the Day Side or the Terminator Line."
"What of you? Your family?"
"Oh, I'm descended from slaves too. My predecessors were among those who established Penumbra City as refugees, and it became a free city. Other slaves remain on the Dark Side, and a number of them even fight back within the City itself." She glanced at him. "Some will help you find your friend."
"You mentioned this Portal. What is it?"
"It's a gateway to your world. It might once have reached other worlds, but again, the Pure Bloods lost the ability to direct it. They're lucky to have a steady connection to Earth. It's their sole means of getting slaves for work — and food."
"They really do suck blood?" Greg reminded himself he would've been skeptical had he not seen it with his own eyes.
"Oh yes. They're bloodsuckers. They breed with humans, too."
He shot her a glance. "Breed?"
"Yes. They have children, who can have children." Adena looked at him, her gaze steady. "Don't you notice anything unusual about me?'
"Well, I did notice your canine teeth are..." He cocked his head and a chill ran down his spine. "You're not saying you've got vampire blood in you?"
"Would it make a difference to our relationship if I do?"
Greg detected sensitivity behind her question. He shook his head. "No. I mean it. You've been kindness itself." His lips twitched. "I doubt you've brought me up here just to snack on my blood. You had ample opportunity before."
"Good answer."
She smiled, and he thought again how pointed her canine teeth looked. At the same time, he knew it didn't matter. "Okay then. I'm a Quadsang – a quarter blood. There’s also the Overseer caste, which I think you call ogres? Big ugly brutes."
He nodded.
She went on. "They're three-quarters Pure Blood, but sometimes something goes wrong in their makeup, which makes them big and brutish. The Pure Bloods use them to oversee the slaves and other lesser beings. My parents were Half Bloods. My Pure Blood grandparents mated freely with their human slaves, and the line bred more or less true, which is how I come to be here."
Greg felt his heart give an extra thump as a thought occurred. "Do you ever feel the need to drink blood?"
She nodded. "I can drink it, but I don't really need it." Her smile flashed again. "A nice, juicy steak works for me. Our heritage makes us generally stronger than humans, and we tend to have superior night vision." She shivered. "Others get a tolerance for extreme cold, but this is cold enough for me. Let's go down below."
Adena glanced at her pocket watch as they reached the flight deck once more. "We finished our tour early. I don't have to stand watch for another half-hour. Would you like a drink in my quarters, such as they are?"
Greg smiled. "That's most kind of you."
A couple of the crew shared a knowing glance. "As you were," Adena snapped, and they resumed their duties with new intensity. She took Greg's arm, noting the firm muscles there beneath flesh still thin from poor rations. "We'll see about something to eat, too."
He followed her willingly to her quarters. As Greg stepped inside, Mr. Phibuli seemed to wake up. His head swiveled. "Show us yer boots!"
Greg stopped and stared. Adena chuckled as she closed the door behind him. "Don't mind him, he's a construct I picked up somewhere to amuse my guests."
"An automaton?" Greg stepped over to examine the bird closer. "He's a beautiful piece of work!"
Adena saw the brass parrot's crystal eyes gleam brighter as Greg looked at him. Mr. Phibuli did a little dance on his perch, claws clicking and clattering. "Show us yer — boo..."
Down in the cargo hold the Silver Lady registered the first electric thrill that marked a closing proximity to The Enemy. She stirred, her eyes coming half open. For a long moment she remained passive, gathering information from all the senses her creators had given her. Something else stirred nearby, something unexpected. Quicker than light she shut down, wary of alerting whatever force she'd unwittingly tripped over.
"—oots," Mr. Phibuli finished, his head cocked toward the floor.
Greg chuckled. "It sounds like he needs winding up."
Adena stared at the bird. "Um, yeah. Please, sit down."
He looked around. "I could use the head, if you don't mind."
"Don't mind me."
Greg disappeared about his business.
Adena stepped over to the perch. "What's wrong, old bird?"
Mr. Phibuli shook his head slowly with a soft creak of gears and bearings. "Something isn't right. I thought I..." His beak opened and shut with a sharp clack and he ruffled his feathers with a sound like someone stirring a cutlery drawer. "Forget it. It couldn't be."
Adena cursed under her breath. "What couldn't be?"
"Something from my past."
She stared at him. "Your past?"
Phibuli made to speak but closed his beak as Greg returned.
Greg smiled. "I imagine he must be company for you in here."
Adena forced her puzzlement and unease aside and turned to him with a smile. "I do find myself talking to the ridiculous thing at times, yes." She went over to her drinks cabinet. "I don't have anything from Earth here, but I think I can give you something palatable."
"Anything like a whiskey would
