Wraith (Debt Collector 10) Read Online Free
Author: Susan Kaye Quinn
Tags: Science-Fiction, cyberpunk, serial, future noir
door in my face. I think he’s going to get Madam A, but I’m not entirely sure.
As the seconds tick into minutes, my agitation grows from a small churn in my stomach to a live beast clawing me from the inside out. Collecting is one thing. The thrill of the hunt, the satisfaction of meting out richly-deserved justice, not to mention the high itself… all of it floods my body with juice and brings me alive. The addict in me adores it all. But I don’t want to keep it. The second part of a collection—the paying out—is the most important part. Not just because it returns the life energy to those who rightly should have it, but because the burden of carrying all those souls around inside me is almost too much to bear. It’s like guilt, multiplied by a thousand, given animation, and then trapped inside my body.
I’m about to pound on the door again, when it opens. Relief gushes through me when I see Madam Anastazja standing there with pretty boy looming at her back. She throws her usual imperious look at me with that fierce, tiny Asian face. Her name is just a cover—easier for dealing with the mostly Slavic mobs on the east side—but the scowl she has for me is all real.
“Wraith.” Her glittering black eyes scan me, and her bright red lips purse. “I was not expecting you. In fact, I’m surprised to see you have returned at all.” She’s always dressed to intimidate. The red silk Mandarin dress wrapped tight around her petite frame and the wild gravity-defying hair definitely give the impression she’s crazy enough to shoot you. If not, the miniature pistol she keeps tucked in the back of her dress will do the job.
But none of that concerns me. “Sorry for the radio silence. I’ll make it up in payouts. I was just in a hurry to get here is all.”
She arches one perfectly manicured eyebrow, then casts a look to the pretty boy still glaring at me over her shoulder. “It’s all right, Lirium.” She turns back to me. “I suspect Wraith has something we both will want.”
She steps back, opening the door wide. The other debt collector, Lirium, gives me room, but not much. I edge inside, but keep my distance from him.
Madam A notices. “Why don’t you give us a moment to catch up?” she says to Lirium.
He looks back and forth between us, but gives her a nod and strides out of the room. The receiving area is actually Grace’s apartment, but I don’t see her. And it looks like she’s turned it over to one of the kids. There’s an empty hospital-style bed in place of her regular one, with monitors propped on metal posts around it.
Madam A waits until Lirium’s gone, then gestures to me with her long, blood-red fingernails. I follow her deeper inside the stuffy warmth of the brothel. The center of the rehabbed church holds many small beds, but we pass those and march up the stairs instead. I’m about to protest the delay, but she stops at the balcony that overlooks the open, two-story area where the kids sleep. A massive crucifix hangs at the end, the symbol of a blameless god who bled for the sins of his people. I’m not sure why it’s still there, but it watches over an altar that’s now a nursing station, complete with metal trays and two nurses in pink scrubs. The rest would look like a children’s dormitory, if it weren’t for the IV drips snaking in between the teddy bears. There are fewer than a dozen little forms in the beds, which I’m both glad to see—less sick kids is better—and strangely anxious about. I have a lot to pay out, and I can’t do it all at once. With so few children… and the fact that their small bodies need to take it slow… I’m not sure how this is going to work tonight.
I look away from the patients. Madam A is inspecting me and my bleeding leg. It’s not like she’s never seen me in the suit, but I’m more of a mess than usual.
“How is the justice business going?” she asks. A small smile lifts the corners of her red-lipsticked
As the seconds tick into minutes, my agitation grows from a small churn in my stomach to a live beast clawing me from the inside out. Collecting is one thing. The thrill of the hunt, the satisfaction of meting out richly-deserved justice, not to mention the high itself… all of it floods my body with juice and brings me alive. The addict in me adores it all. But I don’t want to keep it. The second part of a collection—the paying out—is the most important part. Not just because it returns the life energy to those who rightly should have it, but because the burden of carrying all those souls around inside me is almost too much to bear. It’s like guilt, multiplied by a thousand, given animation, and then trapped inside my body.
I’m about to pound on the door again, when it opens. Relief gushes through me when I see Madam Anastazja standing there with pretty boy looming at her back. She throws her usual imperious look at me with that fierce, tiny Asian face. Her name is just a cover—easier for dealing with the mostly Slavic mobs on the east side—but the scowl she has for me is all real.
“Wraith.” Her glittering black eyes scan me, and her bright red lips purse. “I was not expecting you. In fact, I’m surprised to see you have returned at all.” She’s always dressed to intimidate. The red silk Mandarin dress wrapped tight around her petite frame and the wild gravity-defying hair definitely give the impression she’s crazy enough to shoot you. If not, the miniature pistol she keeps tucked in the back of her dress will do the job.
But none of that concerns me. “Sorry for the radio silence. I’ll make it up in payouts. I was just in a hurry to get here is all.”
She arches one perfectly manicured eyebrow, then casts a look to the pretty boy still glaring at me over her shoulder. “It’s all right, Lirium.” She turns back to me. “I suspect Wraith has something we both will want.”
She steps back, opening the door wide. The other debt collector, Lirium, gives me room, but not much. I edge inside, but keep my distance from him.
Madam A notices. “Why don’t you give us a moment to catch up?” she says to Lirium.
He looks back and forth between us, but gives her a nod and strides out of the room. The receiving area is actually Grace’s apartment, but I don’t see her. And it looks like she’s turned it over to one of the kids. There’s an empty hospital-style bed in place of her regular one, with monitors propped on metal posts around it.
Madam A waits until Lirium’s gone, then gestures to me with her long, blood-red fingernails. I follow her deeper inside the stuffy warmth of the brothel. The center of the rehabbed church holds many small beds, but we pass those and march up the stairs instead. I’m about to protest the delay, but she stops at the balcony that overlooks the open, two-story area where the kids sleep. A massive crucifix hangs at the end, the symbol of a blameless god who bled for the sins of his people. I’m not sure why it’s still there, but it watches over an altar that’s now a nursing station, complete with metal trays and two nurses in pink scrubs. The rest would look like a children’s dormitory, if it weren’t for the IV drips snaking in between the teddy bears. There are fewer than a dozen little forms in the beds, which I’m both glad to see—less sick kids is better—and strangely anxious about. I have a lot to pay out, and I can’t do it all at once. With so few children… and the fact that their small bodies need to take it slow… I’m not sure how this is going to work tonight.
I look away from the patients. Madam A is inspecting me and my bleeding leg. It’s not like she’s never seen me in the suit, but I’m more of a mess than usual.
“How is the justice business going?” she asks. A small smile lifts the corners of her red-lipsticked
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