Rising Tomorrow (Roc de Chere Book 1) Mariana Morgan (most life changing books .txt) 📖

again, but her words remained mercifully incoherent. Her body stayed semi-rigid and her feet moved sluggishly, supporting some of her weight.

The staircase continued to be largely unoccupied. The majority of Leeches preferred the warmth and safety of habitable units to the exposed dangers and drafts of open spaces, or were out in the cold April day trying to find some paid work or supplies. Those few they did pass on the way down paid them little attention. Just two more Leeches, one struggling on her feet in pain, the other probably high on some local produce that was busy poisoning her body.

‘I would happily stuff you into some hole and come back for you once I’ve fixed my ribs. Ideally with a gun or two and a bloody vehicle to haul your spoilt ass. But Gonzalez would probably rip my head off if I left you alone.’ She laughed. Her heart rate was almost back to normal, and the agony in her ribs down to an annoying ache, now that she wasn’t moving and supporting Eloise’s weight, so her usual sarcastic sense of humour was making a swift comeback. ‘Heck, I’d risk it in a heartbeat if I had any guarantee you’d still be where I stashed you when I came back.’

‘Till… come back. Till… y.’

‘Yeah, that’s right. I’d love to leave you till I could come back.’ Ingram chuckled, amused that the gibberish coming out of Eloise seemed to coincide with her own monologue. ‘But someone would probably help themselves to you. They would see your healthy, well-nourished body, and they’d figure they could trade for you. Or fuck you. Or both. Definitely both.’

She had stripped Eloise of anything that made her look like she belonged to the lavish Elite world, but there was no way to hide just how out of place the woman still was. Even in a coma she had that damn lofty, superior look about her. Her skin was too radiant, her hair too shiny. Damn her.

‘We’ll sell your patches, the two that I don’t need to keep you sedated,’ Ingram continued, whispering. ‘They’ll fetch a nice price underground. I might even be able to trade them for some clean water, so you won’t have to pull a face when this foul-smelling thing touches your princess lips,’ she added, tipping the dirty water canteen gently and waiting for the half-comatose Eloise to instinctively start swallowing. Strong nano-meds could induce some truly astounding states. Eloise could chew and swallow small morsels of food put in her mouth, drink water touching her lips and sluggishly move her legs when Ingram held her upright, but there was no thinking ability whatsoever.

‘I guess I’m going to have some fun when your bladder and bowels are full.’ She wrinkled her nose at the thought. She put the canteen back into her makeshift bag and focused her attention on the little stud earrings and the matching necklace she had taken off Eloise earlier.

‘Of course, jewellery is useless to those who need food and medicine most, but when we’re underground the Syndicate might be interested.’

It felt odd to be talking to someone who not only couldn’t understand a word she said but who also represented everything Ingram hated about the System. But it also felt oddly calming to hear her own voice, and she needed the calm.

‘Usually the Syndicate finds you when they want something, but I still remember some of the old tricks. If I’m lucky I might even get a vehicle in return. That would make hauling your ass somewhere safe far easier.’

The small, stylish jewellery looked suspiciously like rhodium. The stuff had been seriously expensive back in the 21st century, when human barbarians hardly knew what nano-tech was. Over the last seven hundred years it had become vanishingly rare.

‘Spoiling yourself much, princess?’ she chided, turning the little studs in her fingers.

She was trying to assess their value—not that she had much to compare them to, her own tastes being far more practical—when her finger felt something sharp. One of the studs was different. Her vision was still strained, and she had to shuffle closer to a windowless gap in the building for more sunlight.

She frowned and then swore softly when a pinprick-sized silver-white grain fell off the stud. She dropped to her knees to search hopelessly, swearing at her tired, clumsy self. If she wasn’t mistaken, she had just found a recording nano-device that Eloise Moretti had on her the whole time. And now she’d lost it in the filthy grime covering the floor.

‘Clever girl,’ Ingram chided herself with dripping sarcasm. ‘Clever, and clumsy!’

CHAPTER 11

Lyon’s 4th Police Station

South-Central Lyon

Afro-European Alliance

Tuesday 21 April 2725

DAY 2

A couple of hours later, Megan shifted uncomfortably on her chair, trying hard not to act skittish. The room was almost restored back to normal, but signs of the devastation she had caused while Gonzalez focused his attention on Ingram and her XST were still visible. Blood still stained the floor where Evan Bianco died, though the body had been removed.

Two other, smaller streaks of blood were also visible. Right by the desk where Inspector Norah Bellefeuille fell, the first streak had been smeared by the woman herself when she regained consciousness and clumsily tried to lift herself up. The other had been left by Megan after the second of Gonzalez’s punches broke her nose. She didn’t remember hearing the bone crack; Gonzalez had made sure the first punch had her out cold so she was spared the pain and the hopeless struggle to remain conscious.

Interestingly, there was no blood where Marco Schulze had fallen after Megan knocked him out. And now that she thought about it, that was probably a good thing.

Once Gonzalez had left, it had taken a surprising amount of time for Wagner to find a way out of his office. In a real tribute to his spoilt Elite habits, the man had forgotten what to do when technology failed him. Eventually, an old-fashioned, brute-force effort between him and Bellefeuille