Destiny's Song (The Fixers, book #1: A KarmaCorp Novel) by Audrey Faye Page A
Authors: Audrey Faye
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easier to do in a crowd. “Do you know why I’m here?”
She snorted. “Half the planet knows why you’re here. Emelio Lovatt sent for you. That kind of stuff doesn’t stay quiet.”
I cursed Yesenia inventively in my head—her briefing had lacked that rather salient detail. “Why the heck would an Inheritor do that?” Most ruling families were very loath to give up any of their power, especially to the KarmaCorp behemoth. And no one got to send for a Fixer, not even planetary royalty. Perhaps especially planetary royalty. We weren’t at the beck and call of people with power—we helped them when we chose.
Apparently, we had chosen.
Tameka dropped altitude and smiled mysteriously. “The Lovatts are not your typical Inheritors.”
I was getting that much loud and clear. “Care to fill me in any more than that?” Generally Fixers were left to do their own investigating, and I preferred it that way, but it was pretty clear that Tameka wasn’t our typical local contact.
“I think I’ll leave it at that.” She swung the b-pod out in a low curve, bringing us down tight over the sweeping grasslands. “We’re almost at my place—you’ll be staying with me tonight, and then the Lovatts are expecting you tomorrow. Their accommodations will be far plusher than mine.”
I stared at her, certain I’d developed a sudden and catastrophic hearing problem. “Excuse me?”
Tameka chuckled. “Yesenia held her cards close to her chest on this one, did she?”
“That can’t work.” Fixers worked from the sidelines. Sometimes I went in incognito, sometimes just with a very low profile—but always, the goal was to move freely in the shadows. Staying at a freaking Inheritor’s residence was anything but low profile, especially if they were the ones who had called me in.
“It will let you observe Devan Lovatt closely,” said my host wryly.
It was going to put me in a bloody fishbowl. “And I suppose Janelle Brooker lives next door and comes over every night for dinner.”
“Well, not every night.” Tameka looked over at me, eyes glinting merrily. “And neighbors here live a little farther apart than you might be used to.” She pointed a finger out my side of the bubble. “That’s my shack right there. The nearest folks would be the Rideaus, and they live over that ridge.”
I wasn’t following her finger anymore. I was looking at the tiny, gorgeously angular building of sim-wood and glass dropped in the middle of grassland stretching as far as the eye could see. “That’s yours?”
I could almost feel my host’s hum of warm pleasure. “It is. It doesn’t suit most.”
It was my idea of paradise—full of attitude, bathed in sunshine, and really well hidden. “I don’t suppose we can tell the Lovatts that I fell out the back of the cubesat and will be arriving next week instead?”
“The Inheritor will already know of your arrival.” Tameka descended sharply toward her enchanting home in the middle of the high grass. “But you’d be welcome to stay at the end of your assignment, Singer. I do believe I’ve taken a liking to you.”
I’d already figured that out—her hands were moving in the same dance Iggy’s did when she greeted a friend. But it was good to hear the words anyhow. Fixers learned to take pleasurable moments when they could.
Especially at the beginning of assignments that reeked of impending disaster.
8
I slid out the door of Tameka’s tiny cabin, even in my exhaustion unable to resist the call of the glories overhead. All the glass had made it impossible to miss the blues and greens dancing cold fire across the night sky, casting weird and beautiful shadows onto the rippling gray grasslands below.
Sky magic, my father’s people called it. A Dancer’s heart would flourish here.
I looked around for my host, not wanting to intrude on her privacy. No one built a shack in the middle of nowhere unless they liked a whole lot of time to themselves.
“Behind you,”
She snorted. “Half the planet knows why you’re here. Emelio Lovatt sent for you. That kind of stuff doesn’t stay quiet.”
I cursed Yesenia inventively in my head—her briefing had lacked that rather salient detail. “Why the heck would an Inheritor do that?” Most ruling families were very loath to give up any of their power, especially to the KarmaCorp behemoth. And no one got to send for a Fixer, not even planetary royalty. Perhaps especially planetary royalty. We weren’t at the beck and call of people with power—we helped them when we chose.
Apparently, we had chosen.
Tameka dropped altitude and smiled mysteriously. “The Lovatts are not your typical Inheritors.”
I was getting that much loud and clear. “Care to fill me in any more than that?” Generally Fixers were left to do their own investigating, and I preferred it that way, but it was pretty clear that Tameka wasn’t our typical local contact.
“I think I’ll leave it at that.” She swung the b-pod out in a low curve, bringing us down tight over the sweeping grasslands. “We’re almost at my place—you’ll be staying with me tonight, and then the Lovatts are expecting you tomorrow. Their accommodations will be far plusher than mine.”
I stared at her, certain I’d developed a sudden and catastrophic hearing problem. “Excuse me?”
Tameka chuckled. “Yesenia held her cards close to her chest on this one, did she?”
“That can’t work.” Fixers worked from the sidelines. Sometimes I went in incognito, sometimes just with a very low profile—but always, the goal was to move freely in the shadows. Staying at a freaking Inheritor’s residence was anything but low profile, especially if they were the ones who had called me in.
“It will let you observe Devan Lovatt closely,” said my host wryly.
It was going to put me in a bloody fishbowl. “And I suppose Janelle Brooker lives next door and comes over every night for dinner.”
“Well, not every night.” Tameka looked over at me, eyes glinting merrily. “And neighbors here live a little farther apart than you might be used to.” She pointed a finger out my side of the bubble. “That’s my shack right there. The nearest folks would be the Rideaus, and they live over that ridge.”
I wasn’t following her finger anymore. I was looking at the tiny, gorgeously angular building of sim-wood and glass dropped in the middle of grassland stretching as far as the eye could see. “That’s yours?”
I could almost feel my host’s hum of warm pleasure. “It is. It doesn’t suit most.”
It was my idea of paradise—full of attitude, bathed in sunshine, and really well hidden. “I don’t suppose we can tell the Lovatts that I fell out the back of the cubesat and will be arriving next week instead?”
“The Inheritor will already know of your arrival.” Tameka descended sharply toward her enchanting home in the middle of the high grass. “But you’d be welcome to stay at the end of your assignment, Singer. I do believe I’ve taken a liking to you.”
I’d already figured that out—her hands were moving in the same dance Iggy’s did when she greeted a friend. But it was good to hear the words anyhow. Fixers learned to take pleasurable moments when they could.
Especially at the beginning of assignments that reeked of impending disaster.
8
I slid out the door of Tameka’s tiny cabin, even in my exhaustion unable to resist the call of the glories overhead. All the glass had made it impossible to miss the blues and greens dancing cold fire across the night sky, casting weird and beautiful shadows onto the rippling gray grasslands below.
Sky magic, my father’s people called it. A Dancer’s heart would flourish here.
I looked around for my host, not wanting to intrude on her privacy. No one built a shack in the middle of nowhere unless they liked a whole lot of time to themselves.
“Behind you,”
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