Titan Song Dan Stout (top 20 books to read txt) 📖

plucked one of the paperbacks from the smaller shelf.

“The Ravenmaster’s Daughter,” I said. “This from a literature class you had in college?”

Jax sipped his coffee. “You watch a lot of carabella. I know this, since you were so vocal about it last night. Why do you think that is?”

“I enjoy sports.”

“You also know that the game will last for a set amount of time, and one team or the other will end up the winner. It’s about as far afield from a murder investigation as you can get.”

“You like to know how a story’s going to end?”

“I like to know it’s going to end.” He set his mug down. “The fact that the ending is happy, at least for the moment, is a bonus.”

I stared at the bright colors and windswept landscape on the cover. “There are no happily ever afters.”

“There are in these.” He sighed, and shook his head. “Maybe none of us are guaranteed one in real life. But that’s no reason to close yourself off from it, either.”

I picked up another book, this one titled A Dalliance of Duchesses. “I don’t know . . .”

“Okay, fine. How about this: consider that the guy who reads romance pried a drunk Gillmyn off you, convinced the bartender not to press charges, and dragged you home to safety. So maybe keep your literary criticisms to yourself?”

“I thought you said I won?”

“I was protecting your fragile sense of self-worth.”

“Fine.” I tossed the books on the couch. “Let’s get out of here.”

It was slow moving as I got up. Jax waited, patient as a parent, which only darkened my mood further. He’d been assigned to me as a babysitter, back when we first met. Back then, it’d angered me that Bryyh thought I needed that kind of oversight. Now, sitting hung-over in Jax’s apartment, it made me sick to my stomach to admit she might have been right. I wanted to address it, to say something that would let Jax know how much I appreciated his help. But when I opened my mouth, all that came out was a belch. Which is when I realized that self-loathing wasn’t the only thing making me nauseous.

“Bathroom,” I said.

“What?”

“Bathroom!” I pressed the back of one wrist to my mouth, and bolted in the direction Jax was pointing.

A half hour later, I’d splashed water on my face, rinsed out my mouth, and announced I was ready to face the morning.

“It’s almost noon.”

“Are we late?” I didn’t need Bryyh breathing down my neck.

“No, we’re on second shift today,” he said. “Regular rotation.” Not that the distinction meant much to detectives. Being off-duty mostly meant that the expected turnaround time for answering a page went from immediate to almost immediate.

“Then we’ll face what’s left of the morning, and conquer the afternoon,” I said. “But first I need to stop home, pick up my weapon, and feed my cat.”

“And maybe take an actual shower?”

I raised the coffee cup. “And maybe that, too.”

30

I INSISTED WE CATCH A CAB from Jax’s apartment. Previous experience had taught me that hangovers and bus rides don’t mix well.

Traffic crept at a glacial pace. Titanshade is a crowded town, millions of us piling into the relatively small footprint of geo-vents southwest of the Mount. The sinkhole had only made things worse. The cabbie’s radio chirped with a litany of streets closed to allow crews to reconnect severed vent lines with metal ductwork. It seemed like no one knew how to get anywhere anymore, and things were going to get worse before they got better.

During a particularly stagnant lull, I tapped Jax on the shoulder and pointed out the window.

“See that crane? The one loading ice into the water tower.”

Ice suppliers cut large blocks on the plains and trucked them into the city, stocking them in rooftop towers to melt and provide supplemental water to the residents. Getting the ice into the towers was tricky, and many suppliers used a crane with two sets of three-pronged pincers. One pincer lifted the tower’s access panel while the other deposited the ice.

“It’s called a kusu crane,” I said.

Jax whistled his understanding. The similarity to the Barekusu’s hand anatomy was clear.

“The Barekusu are everywhere,” I said. “Their influence, at least. They’re the oldest child, and all the other Families grew up in their shadow.”

“Where are you going with this, Carter?”

“Having influence is one thing. Knowing you have it is another.” It was like Klare and the other reporters intentionally calling attention to a crime with a flashy headline. “Do they realize it? The Barekusu, I mean.”

Jax hesitated. “I suppose they do.”

I closed my eyes and hoped the headache would dissipate, but thoughts about what a Barekusu could do if they were willing to flex that influence only made it worse. Or maybe it was the horns and exhaust of traffic.

Finally we reached my place. As I climbed out, Jax’s pager buzzed. He glanced at it and hesitated, then leaned forward as if he were planning to come up with me.

“I’m fine,” I said. “You don’t need to momma bird me.”

He eyed me doubtfully, still seated in the cab. “You’re barely standing.”

I displayed my own pager, which showed no message. “Was that a personal page?”

He nodded.

“Talena?”

He answered with a quick melody of clicks, and added, “She’s angry. And worried.”

“About you or me?”

He didn’t answer.

The driver turned in his seat. “You guys waiting or going or what?”

“Go on ahead and call her back,” I told Jax. “Take a sick day or something, and make it up to her. I’ll cover for you at the office.” I handed a few bills to the driver, enough for my fare and at least part of Jax’s trip downtown. “Call if you need me.”

Jax nodded and sat back, glancing at the pager.

“If Bryyh asks, I’ll tell her you got a bad case of wine poisoning.” I slapped the roof of the cab and stepped away, raising my voice. “And thanks for watching my back.”

Ignoring the pounding in my head, I made my way up