"Reah, it's underground. They didn't fill it in. Those children are under the playground." Plovel was gripping my wrist so hard it hurt. "I was looking for the entrance when I was arrested."
"I should have killed Neidles," I muttered. "Will you be all right?"
"I've been worse."
"I'll go back," I said, and skipped away, no doubt causing medical personnel to gasp.
Of course, it was still dark and I was wearied as I stared at the deserted playground. Is this why the children said it was haunted and they could hear someone crying? The sound traveling upward, somehow? I began walking the perimeter of the grass that outlined the play area. If there was an entrance, it was hidden well—I walked around it three times without finding anything. There was one way I might deal with this, although I was trusting what Plovel told me and skipping in blind. Just as a precaution, I went in as my smaller Thifilatha.
"We're sorry, the food is usually better. I think Neidles fired the cook," a harried Nari informed the newest guests. Four men had come, all looking much too wealthy to be there, she thought, as she served sandwiches and bowls of soup.
"It's all right," Gavril reassured the girl, who seemed close to tears for some reason.
"No, it's not all right—I was learning so much from Reah, and now Neidles has chased her off." She wiped tears away, then stared at Gavril as he dropped the spoon into his soup bowl.
"Describe her," Lendill demanded while Gavril struggled to find his voice.
"This tall, long white hair," Nari held a hand up at the proper height.
"What happened? Do you know where she went?" Astralan asked.
"No. Stupid Neidles kept saying he was going to force her to go to bed with him. I guess she told him off and he fired her."
"I'll kill him," Gavril's hands clenched into fists. He was rising from his seat to go in search of the proprietor when the explosion occurred.
The old basement had been wired against intruders, and the ones who'd captured and held the prisoners folded away somehow—I saw flashes of light, six to be exact, while ducking debris and shrapnel as it flew toward me. My scales are very hard while I am Thifilatha—it was what saved my life. If I'd been in my normal form, I might have died. Speaking from experience, only Ranos technology can effectively pierce my scales.
Children, locked inside cages and abandoned, were now screaming and crying while I straightened up. I'd been correct earlier; the authorities hadn't bothered to fill in the basement. They'd capped it to make it look as though it had been filled in, but it was hollow and empty beneath the playground until the kidnappers had located it and used it for their own purposes.
I knew what had caused those six flashes of light, too—no High Demon would ever be fooled by that filth. Ra'Ak. They were feeding off the children of Grithis. Most likely with human assistance. I stumbled over debris and jerked open cage doors, carefully lifting out seven children and skipping them aboveground. I heard sirens and knew I needed to leave—the culprits were long gone—who knew where they might go next?
"Who's there?" A voice shouted. The children began to weep louder. I skipped away.
"Tell him it was the worst kind of monsters, feeding on children," I passed the comp-vid to the female agent. "He has the code to get into it—I left information here for him." I tapped the comp-vid. "I'm going to attempt to follow that filth. They need to be destroyed."
"But where will they go? I can send agents out if I have some idea." She was begging me to tell her something.
"I don't think they'll stay on Bardelus. I think they're long gone from here," I said. "I saw them. They won't want to remain here if they know I know about them." I didn't say that any Ra'Ak was afraid of a High Demon. Ra'Ak held no power against a High Demon. I'd already killed several. They wouldn't wait to see whether I intended harm or not. That was a given. "I only found seven children alive," I added.
"Thank you for your help," she said.
"Tell Plovel to get in touch via comp-vid—he has my code," I said, and skipped away.
There wasn't any need to go back to the inn—I figured Neidles had already sold my belongings for what they might fetch, the rat-faced asshole. I skipped straight to Beliphar instead.
"Where are her belongings?" Gavril gripped Neidles's shirt in his fingers. He and the others had arrived at the blasted playground in time to see Reah disappear. Gavril and Lendill had both cursed, long and hard, while Astralan and Stellan rounded up frightened children and turned them over to the authorities. Gavril knew by scent alone that the Strands were in league with Ra'Ak. Lendill was on his comp-vid immediately, putting up bulletins across the Alliance regarding the dangers they might be facing. Gavril was placing compulsion on Neidles again, to learn what he could about Reah and to get her things back.
"I have her things," Neidles voice was flat.
"You will give them to me." They followed Neidles to his suite, where all of Reah's clothing and such had been gathered. The two warlocks lifted the bag and boxes. "If you ever bother Reah again, I'll kill you," Gavril promised, before nodding to Astralan, who folded all of them to Campiaa.
I slept for the better part of three days. I had no idea how tired I really was. Meals were the only thing I climbed out of bed for—nothing else gathered my attention. On the morning of the fourth day, Nefrigar was sitting on the side of my bed when I woke.
"Hello, honey blue," I rubbed my eyes to bring him into focus. He smiled. "Are you acting as my agent?" I asked. "You show up every time I don't have anything else to do."
"Is that what an agent does?" He stood when I slipped off the bed and followed me into the kitchen.
"They find work for their clients," I nodded, putting the kettle on for tea. "But they usually take a percentage. Well, even if you did, the percentage wouldn't be much, Neidles didn't pay a fair wage." I put tea in the pot while waiting for the water to heat.
"I have no need of wealth or currency." He leaned against the counter and watched me work. I sliced bread and placed it under the broiler. Toast sounded just as good as anything else for breakfast. Food was running out—I would have to restock the kitchen.
"What do you need?" I looked up at him.
"Something that keeps my interest," he was smiling again.
"Ah. I'm the new toy."
"Toy?"
"Something to play with."
"That sounds as if you believe I might lose interest, or use you for frivolous reasons."
"Yeah. I guess that's right," I sighed, pulling my toast out of the oven.
"Little one, I do not believe that will happen. I came to tell you that a position opened up on Tulgalan in a new restaurant. They are searching for an Eight-Day cook. This might be a good position to hold while you search for the ones who fled Bardelus."
He could be right—an Eight-Day cook was the cook who worked one day per Tulgalanian week, so the others could have the day off. At times, Eight-Day cooks had specific specialties they served for the midday and evening meals—Tulgalani loved to take their families out to eat on Eight-Day. With seven days left to hunt the filth feeding off children, it could be an ideal situation. "It pays well," Nefrigar added.
"It'll have to—I'll be forced to rent something to stay there."
"You will do fine," Nefrigar waited until I finished my meager breakfast before folding me to Targis.
Using one of my credit chips, I rented a cube. The cube was actually a rectangle—most of them were, but the slang term was used all the time. My apartment was only one room, with a tiny kitchen on one end, a bed on the other, with a microscopic sitting area in between.
Clothing was also a necessity—fall was approaching quickly and Targis was cold from the beginning of the ninth month, running through the end of the year and into the fourth month of the next. I used up even more of my credit chip for that, and all this before I even interviewed for the position. It didn't matter, I could support myself for a short while if necessary off my hoarded credit chips. It would mean I could hunt Ra'Ak scum indiscriminately.
"Yes, we're still interviewing." I spoke via comp-vid with the restaurant manager. It surprised me that it was called Dee's—that's what Teeg had called his assistant. It didn't matter—Teeg and his assistant were on Campiaa, if they weren't hunting the Strands. I'd done some research when I reached Targis—the Strands were still on the loose. "I have time this afternoon if you'd like to come in," the voice continued.
"I'll be there," I agreed. I'd never gone through a formal interview before—people had tasted my cooking and that was that.
"It won't bother you to be an Eight-Day cook?" The man identified himself as Wroth, the business manager for the restaurant. Owned by a corporation, he'd said. I didn't ask him to explain.
"No, that leaves me time to pursue other interests," I said. "My last job was nearly round the clock, the demand was so great. This will allow me to do other things. Hobbies and such. I'll do research. Perhaps write a little." I didn't say it would be information on my investigation; he didn't need to know that.
"Will you cook something now? I was too busy to have lunch earlier." Wroth wanted evidence of my skills, since most of the experience I'd listed was on non-Alliance worlds.
"Do you have yaris fish?" I asked. I was hungry, too, and hadn't seen yaris fish in months. Wroth smiled.
"You're hired," Wroth mumbled around his second bite. I was using one of my simpler aliases from my ASD tenure. Reah Silver was the name and ID I'd given. I was hoping that Lendill didn't have tendrils out, searching for hits on any of the false IDs he'd given me through the years.
