Pyro

Chapter 23

My heart pounded against my ribs, my breathing was shallow and contrived, and most of all, my throat was closing. As the one year mark to wrapping up Proditio's plan and getting Rebecca back creeped ever closer, my anxiousness grew ever stronger.

Calm down, I thought.

I raked my fingers through my hair. The reassuring motion allowed me to focus.

Today will be like any other day. If that day includes finding and eliminating Trader scum.

"You ready?" Zoe asked.

Her voice startled me out of my thoughts. Her golden hair was tied into a pony tail and swayed with each step. Her red dress that stretched to her ankles advertised the upper half of her stunning figure with a tight bodice: The loose, ruffled skirt left the rest to imagination.

Stunning, as per usual. "Ready whenever you are," I replied, sliding off the bed and smoothing out the wrinkles in my superlative suit.

We left the hotel room. The hotel, opulent in its decor and garish in its exorbitance, was located a few miles away from the Trader's Los Angeles auction site.

Kaz, in the form of an old man, met us in the lobby and flashed a crooked grin. "There's the happily married couple."

I grimaced. "Wais picked out a married couple?"

"Yep. Mac and Hannah Perry."

Zoe grimaced with me. "I hate the name Hannah."

Kaz winked. "Why do you think he chose it?" He tapped Zoe's nose, scrunched in distaste, then mine. To the world we now looked like Mac and Hannah Perry, a wealthy couple residing in California. To each other, we just looked like Henry and Zoe.

"Now, off you two go," he ushered us out of the lobby and into the night, where a car idled by the curb, awaiting us. Us, being Mac and Hannah, the attendees of an exclusive auction for high-class abilities.

'Hannah' entered first, then me, and off we went to the Los Angeles auction.

The car eventually rumbled to a stop front of a literal auction house. But it was shuttered and held no indications of activity. It stood in a rather crowded block of city with groups, friends, and people streaming in and out of massive buildings.

Guess the Traders are trying to hide in plain sight.

The driver of the car stepped out, and, apathetic, led us into the cramped alley between the auction house and the opposite building. The gnarled old man knocked twice, paused, knocked again, then rapidly knocked three more times. A goon immediately unlocked a series of latches and ushered us in quickly.

The guy escorted us to a sort of back-stage area. Darkness, dust, and quiet blanketed the cavernous space.

Our footsteps echoed and the wooden floorboards groaned under our combined weight. The man guiding us stopped, whispered something into the air-an earpiece?- and another door swung open.

Two brawny men in suits, guns on their belts, and black, cyborg-looking earpieces in their ears, streamed in. "What's your name?" one said in a resonant voice.

Lying came easily. "Mac Perry," I said. Him believing it was a completely different matter, which explained the racing of my heart.

"Hannah Perry."

They flicked through a list, a guest list, and nodded. "Alright, check them."

My galloping heart thundered wildly. The two men stepped forward, the tall swarthy man assigning himself to pat me down, and the shorter stumpy one assigning himself to Zoe. I resisted my instinct to recoil at the thought of a pat-down and slapped on a mask of nonchalance.