Page 6

CHAPTER 6

KARC

T he secret elevator hums softly as it descends deeper than any human-built subway. I tap the control panel, shutting off the image inducer. The smooth human facade melts away, revealing my golden scales. The air smells faintly of brine and ozone as the elevator slows to a stop. The doors slide open, revealing the sleek, bullet-shaped shuttle waiting on its magnetic track.

I step inside, the shuttle’s interior lights flickering to life. The controls are familiar—centuries of training make it second nature. I punch in the coordinates for Veritas Base Alpha, and the shuttle lurches forward, accelerating to speeds no human vehicle could match. The tunnel blurs past, a streak of light and shadow.

Minutes later, the shuttle slows, and the tunnel gives way to the vast, shimmering dome of Veritas Base Alpha. The city beneath the waves is a masterpiece of Vakutan engineering—glass-like spires rise from the ocean floor, glowing with bioluminescent light. Ships glide through the water with the ease of fish, and the dome hums with energy. It’s been too long since I’ve been here.

The shuttle docks seamlessly, and I step out onto the platform. The air is cool, tinged with the faint tang of saltwater. I stride through the bustling corridors, my scales catching the light as I pass. Heads turn, salutes are offered, and I return them with a curt nod.

Captain Pyke’s office is at the heart of the base, a command center with a view of the entire city. The door hisses open, and I step inside.

Pyke stands by the panoramic window, his red scales gleaming in the soft light. He turns as I enter, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Karc. You’re late.”

“Not my fault the shuttle doesn’t break the sound barrier,” I reply, crossing my arms.

He grunts, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. “Sit.”

I don’t. “What’s so urgent you dragged me away from Giscard?”

Pyke leans on the desk, his voice low. “We believe Giscard’s onto you. He’s suspicious of your human cover.”

“Suspicious doesn’t mean he knows,” I counter, leaning against the wall. “I’ve been careful. He’s got nothing concrete.”

Pyke’s eyes narrow. “Careful? You let Blackbird see your true form.”

I bristle, my scales prickling. “She’s resourceful. I didn’t expect her to break into my office.”

“And yet she did,” Pyke says, his tone sharp. “We can’t afford mistakes like that. If Giscard finds out who you really are, the entire operation is compromised.”

“I can handle it,” I snap, my voice a low growl. “Giscard’s arrogant. He’ll underestimate me.”

Pyke’s gaze hardens. “Your confidence is noted, but orders are orders. I’m pulling you from the operation.”

My fists clench at my sides. “You’re making a mistake. I’m close to uncovering his plans.”

“Then tell me how you plan to convince Giscard you’re just another human businessman,” Pyke demands, crossing his arms.

I push off the wall, stepping closer. “By playing the part. Humans are greedy, opportunistic creatures. I’ll make him think I’m in it for the money, nothing more. He’ll buy it.”

Pyke studies me for a long moment, then sighs. “Fine. But one slip, and you’re out. Understood?”

I nod, my jaw tight. “Understood.”

I find Jareth in his lab, hunched over a workbench scattered with circuit boards and holographic projectors. The smell of ozone and burnt circuitry fills the air.

"Need a favor," I say, tossing my image inducer onto his desk.

Jareth's yellow scales catch the light as he turns. "The great Karc needs my help? Must be serious."

"I need more power. The inducer has to simulate injuries."

His red eyes narrow. "Planning to get hurt?"

"Planning to pretend to get hurt. In front of Giscard."

Jareth picks up the device, examining it with practiced ease. "Interesting strategy. Show weakness to throw him off?"

"Exactly. Can you boost the power enough to fake bruises, cuts, maybe some blood?"

"Of course." His fingers dance over the device, making adjustments. "But the power drain will be significant. You'll have maybe four hours before it needs recharging."

"That's enough time."

He hands the modified inducer back. "Test it."

I activate the device, and my golden scales shimmer into human flesh. A touch of the controls, and an ugly bruise blooms across my jaw. Another adjustment adds a split lip, complete with realistic blood.

"Perfect." I deactivate the injuries. "This'll work."

Jareth crosses his arms. "Just one concern."

"What's that?"

His lips twitch in amusement. "Are you going to be able to swallow your pride and let yourself be beaten up by a lowly human?"

I bare my teeth in what humans would call a smile. "For the greater good? Of course. Won't enjoy it, but that's the job."

The bullet shuttle hums beneath me as I lean back in the seat, the faint vibration of the magnetic track sending a low thrum through my bones. The image inducer rests in my pocket, ready to do its job. I flick the switch as the shuttle slows, my golden scales melting into the smooth, tanned skin of Kirk Stevens. I adjust the cufflinks on my black suit, straightening the tie that feels like a noose. Humans and their ridiculous formalwear.

The elevator to the street level dings open, and I step out into the crisp evening air. Area 51 looms ahead, its neon lights casting a sultry glow over the sidewalk. I stride inside, the thrum of bass-heavy music hitting me like a wall.

The bar is already crowded, the kind of place where the air smells like expensive whiskey and desperation. I order a double scotch, neat, and down it in one swallow. The burn hits my throat, but it does nothing to dull my senses—thanks to my Vakutan biology. I order another, then another, slamming them back as the bartender raises an eyebrow. I need Giscard to see this.

I start stumbling, letting my words slur just enough to sell the act. I bump into a guy in a suit, spilling his drink. He shoves me, and I stumble back, crashing into a table. Glass shatters, and I land hard on the floor, wincing as I tweak the image inducer to display a bruise blooming on my cheek.

“Watch it, asshole!” the guy growls, his face red with anger.

“Sorry, man,” I mutter, slurring my words. “Didn’t… didn’t see ya there.”

He grabs me by the collar and hauls me to my feet. I let him, my body going limp. He swings, and I let the punch connect—not too hard, but enough to sell the damage. I stagger back, clutching my jaw as the image inducer kicks in, showing a split lip. Blood trickles down my chin.

Security descends, pulling the guy off me. I slump against the bar, breathing hard, pretending to be dazed. Across the room, I catch Giscard’s eyes. He’s watching, his expression unreadable. Good. He bought it.

“Mr. Stevens,” Giscard says, striding over. His voice is smooth, apologetic. “I’m terribly sorry about this. Are you all right?”

I dab at the blood with my sleeve, wincing for effect. “Just a scratch. Kinda used to it.”

He nods, his pale eyes assessing me. “We don’t tolerate that kind of behavior here. Let me make it up to you.”

"If you want to make it up to me," I say, dabbing at my split lip, "how about access to the VIP section upstairs?"

Giscard's pale eyes glitter with amusement. "Ah, the exclusive floor. I would be happy to grant you access—if you were married."

My heart rate spikes, but I keep my expression neutral. Damn. Should have seen this coming.

"It's a very special club, for people with special proclivities," Giscard continues, his voice oily smooth. "So I have a rule to keep the degenerates out: Married people only may join the Hellfire Club."

Vakutan curses flash through my mind. This could derail everything. But then an image of Raven flashes in my mind, and suddenly I know exactly what to say.

"Funny you should mention that," I reply, letting a small smile play across my lips. "Because I'm engaged. I'm getting married soon."

Giscard's eyes light up with interest. "Engaged? My, my. You've been holding out on us, Kirk."

"I like my privacy." I dab at the fake blood on my lip.

"Of course, of course. Tell you what—bring your lovely fiancée tomorrow night. I'll make an exception to our married-only rule, just this once."

My stomach clenches. I hadn't planned on involving Raven in this mess. But the chance to infiltrate Giscard's inner circle is too valuable to pass up.

"Deal. Now if you'll excuse me, I should probably get this looked at." I gesture to my face.

"Please, let Area 51 cover any medical expenses." Giscard's voice drips with false concern.

I laugh, the sound echoing through the bar. Reaching into my wallet, I pull out a crisp thousand-dollar bill and toss it onto the polished wood.

"For the damages," I say, straightening my tie. "See you tomorrow, Giscard."

"Don't forget your bride to be," Giscard calls after me.