The Wicked City. Megan Morgan
ochre building with a huge dome and two towers rising on either side.
Beyond was the end of the pier, the area deserted save for two people. They stood against the stone railing at the end, facing the water.
“Is that—” Micha slowed.
“It’s either who we’re looking for or a star-crossed couple contemplating suicide,” June said. “No other reason to be hanging out here in East Frozen Hell.”
Flags on a series of flagpoles popped in the wind. The place felt eerie and empty, thrust out into the void of frozen water. In the distance, a lighthouse loomed, caught in the ice.
“It’s him.” Cindy picked up the pace.
June flexed her stiff fingers inside her jacket pockets. She couldn’t feel her feet, even in her expensive weather-resistant leather boots. She needed to hear some good news, the promise someone could help. One of the figures was a man—tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a black coat, and the other one was short and tiny, a woman dressed all in white.
The couple turned in unison as they approached.
Chapter 3
“Sam?” Cindy said.
The man—Sam Haain, apparently—had a square jaw, a heavy menacing brow, straight black hair past his shoulders, and dark eyes. He was tanned and appeared perhaps not entirely Caucasian. He wore a black pea coat and a maroon scarf. The woman was narrow-faced and pale and had short platinum blond hair. She was wrapped in a fuzzy white coat and looked like a little snowball. She seemed a gentle light next to the man’s brooding darkness.
The sight of them was unaccountably unnerving—two lonely, strange figures pressed against the backdrop of the gray, blank world around them.
“Finally.” Sam gave an exaggerated shiver. “I’m freezing my cock off out here.”
June didn’t detect an accent, but he sounded overfull of testosterone.
“We didn’t have to meet here, you know,” Cindy said. “This is June Coffin, Sam. And that’s Micha Bellevue.”
“The activist.” Sam gave Micha a once-over, thick lips pulled in a grimace. He then jerked his head toward the little white girl. “My bodyguard,” he said, without a hint of irony. “Muse Sagan.”
Muse stared at June with her wide silvery eyes, irises washed out like the winter sky. She had a facial tick, the corner of her mouth jerking.
“She’s good.” Muse nodded. Her voice was breathy and scratchy.
“What?” June asked, a little creeped out.
“She’s a telepath,” Cindy said. “We had Robbie check her out already, Sam. I wouldn’t have brought her here without having her scanned first.”
June turned on Cindy. “You—”
“We had to make sure your story was legit!”
Sam focused on June, his eyes hard and appraising. “Welcome to Hell, Siren. Aural captivator, whatever it is the normals call you.”
“My name is June.”
“I know what your name is.” He stepped forward. “June Coffin. Is that your real name?”
She clenched her jaw. She got tired of people’s reactions to her name.
“Yes, it’s my real name. My brother is the actor. Your ‘bodyguard’ should have already known that.”
“Your brother. Cindy tells me he’s in the Institute’s slimy grip.”
“He is.”
“What’s going on at the Institute is incredibly complex, Siren. You’ve gotten yourself mixed up in a much bigger and more convoluted game than you could ever imagine.”
“I don’t give a damn. My brother is being held prisoner there. I want to know how to get him out. Whatever else is going on isn’t my problem.”
“But it is mine.” Sam drew his hands from his coat pockets. They were swaddled in thick, knitted gloves, the same color as his scarf.
June wanted to steal them.
“Last I heard, you were at the Institute with your brother. Yet here you are.” Sam turned his attention to Micha. “And here you are, though I heard you disappeared.”
“I busted out four days ago,” June said. “Unfortunately, Jason was caught trying to escape with me.”
“And they…killed my wife,” Micha said. “That’s what I’m told, anyway.”
Muse cleared her throat, a disgustingly wet, unladylike sound. The corner of her mouth still twitched.
“His mind is all messed up.” Muse sounded like an eighty-year-old woman who had been smoking two packs a day for fifty years. “What happened to you?” she demanded of Micha.
“I happened to him,” June said.
Muse flashed her gaze to June.
“I would love to see the Institute blown up,” Sam said. “I would even provide the dynamite. I’ve never let them put their filthy hands on me. Why would you let them touch you or your brother? Maybe you got what you deserved, Siren.”
“June.” She gritted her teeth. “And a lot of persuasion and a boatload of money was involved. I didn’t come here to justify anything to you. I need to get my brother out of the Institute, and they said you could help.”
“Oh, really? Because I can’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Much as I would like to rip the Institute apart piece by little piece, I don’t have any power over them. At least not right now. I certainly can’t just walk in their doors and get him out for you.”
“What are we doing here then?” She snarled at Cindy. “Why did you say he could help?”
“Sam,” Cindy pleaded. “I know you might not be able to do anything directly, but maybe you know someone who can. Surely if you agreed to this meeting you had something in mind.”
“Do you know how many sad-eyed, beleaguered fools come begging for my help per day?” Sam asked. “Why should I help this yapping little pipsqueak? She got herself in this mess.”
June lost her composure. “I will kick your ass, I swear to God. All the shit I’ve been through the past few days, I don’t need anyone else’s bullshit, certainly not some swaggering asshole I don’t even know! I will stab you in the face if you say one more—”
Muse cleared her throat. “She doesn’t have a knife, Sam.”
“You.” June pointed at her. “You, I will pick up and throw over that railing.”
Sam grabbed June’s finger with his gloved hand, looking her in the eye. He was quite a bit taller than she, but then, everyone was. He leaned in close, and she caught a faint whiff of understated musky cologne on the cold wind.
“You passed the first test.” Sam let go of her finger.
June stared at him.
“I don’t help those who can’t help themselves,” he said. “Come to my door whimpering and crying, I will kick you like a stray dog. Come ready to fight, we can do business.”
June closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them. “Great. Now can we—”
“Do you know what this is?” Sam flung his arms out. “All of this?”
He spun in a circle, scarf dangling, his hair moving in the wind. Muse watched him placidly. Cindy watched him too, hands clasped and eyes wide.
“Uh,” June said.
Sam turned back to them,