“Shit,” Mel muttered, not liking the number of eyeballs that would see her.
The address was across the street, one building over. On the bottom floor was a business she couldn’t even identify. The shutters were pulled down tight and the yellow sign was covered in characters unfamiliar to her. Above the store were three floors. Based on the bricked in windows of the second floor, she figured that was storage or something else for the business. It was a narrow building and her address was for the third floor.
The access door squeezed in next to the shutters looked like it had four tags next to it, but Mel couldn’t be sure. Her phone’s magnification level was good, but the picture jerked around too much with her hands shaking like they were. A fire escape snaked up the front of the building, but since it was in full view of the street, it was out as an entry point.
It didn’t surprise her that she found herself in a seedy neighborhood like this one. These kinds of criminal organizations were smart. The best way to remain unnoticed was to make sure key elements of the organization—the kind where proof could be obtained of criminal acts—weren’t located in places that invited questions. The best way to get on the radar was to live in a high-rise apartment your income didn’t support. Here, no one asked questions. Having your data local also meant avoiding all the monitoring regularly done on all data passing a border.
“Dammit,” she muttered. “Couldn’t give me one with easy access, could you, Baby?”
Mel stretched her head from one side to the other, relieving the building tension in her neck. What to do?
She really had only one option. The door. That would require someone buzz her in and no one in this neighborhood would do that unless they had a reason. She couldn’t use her cop credentials. That would be inviting herself into the prison system.
All she had was the information given to her. Maybe that would do. If not, she’d resort to other methods. She slipped the earbuds out of her pocket and put one into her ear, cupping the other in her palm for easy access. Her phone was ready. All she had to do was say the wake word and play.
Luckily for her, early spring meant cold nights. Flipping up her coat collar to shield a little of her face, she walked across the dark street like she belonged there. A few prostitutes on the nearest corner turned to glance her way, but only long enough to discard her as a potential client. Mel didn’t even turn her head their way.
At the door, she huddled deeper into her coat and located the button she needed. There were four. No names, but the numbers matched. She used a gloved knuckle to press. No sense leaving fingerprints if she really was delusional.
After a short pause, a voice came through the speaker in scratchy tones. “No whores!”
Without looking up, she leaned close and said, “We have a problem that needs a webmaster. Can’t use a phone.”
The pause was longer this time, the person on the other side of the speaker obviously considering her words. The scratches started again and the man said, “This ain’t the process.”
“Like I said, we have a problem that can’t be solved with a phone. It’s for the webmaster and it’s urgent.”
This time, there was no delay. “Fuck. I told him this was gonna be bad. Fucking cops.”
Before she had to think up an answer, the door buzzed and she pulled it open with a shaking hand. What was she doing? This was bullshit and she should just call her boss and leave right now.
Her feet wanted to go, but the small part of her that believed everything Baby had told her made her cross into a tiny space that smelled of stale cooking and mildew. Steep stairs faced her. She tucked the other earbud into her ear and climbed.
At the third floor, a narrow walkway overlooking the stairs separated the two apartments. She said the wake word, then play. A nice bouncing beat that sounded nothing like the hellfire of that other song began. Mel was relieved.
All she’d had was the name of the song and the artist. Journal of Ardency. Like the other song, this was an old one she’d never heard of. She’d been afraid to search for it online, worried some snippet would begin that she couldn’t stop fast enough.
But this wasn’t bad at all. Her first step down the hallway coincided with a change, an addition of beat, the prelude to words. With it came a pain in her middle so severe it nearly bent her over. Gripping the rickety railing, she gritted her teeth and took another step. She couldn’t fall down or bend over or anything like that. She could do nothing that would stop the man from opening the door.
The first words came at her next step. Game of cruelty, indeed, she thought. Her guts felt like she was melting from the inside out. The pain spread to her head, a searing, fire-laced pain behind her eyes. She couldn’t stop herself from squeezing them shut.
Step.
Forcing her eyes open, the world around her had changed during that long blink. Her vision was something different. Green fire danced around the rim of the door in front of her, as if there were a massive bonfire burning behind it, leaking green light into the hallway. Tiny tongues of green, vaporous fire twisted into the air from the seams, seeking an escape.
That was definitely the place to go.
Because green means go.
Step.
A much brighter green light of vaguely human shape lit up the door like it was made of paper. It stopped at the door, then the door opened. Mel couldn’t really see the man. He was a column of green radiance with brighter accents like
