Delirium (Debt Collector 1) by Susan Kaye Quinn

Author:Susan Kaye Quinn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: future noir, science fiction, dark, debt collection, fantasy, urban fantasy, paranormal
ISBN: 978-0-9882670-8-4
Published: 2013-03-16T16:00:00+00:00

It’s strange to see that it’s still daylight outside. It feels like days have passed since I rode the Metro down to LifeLong to pay out to Whitby. Maybe because I had planned to spend the next few days hiding in my cave of an apartment. But instead, I’m back on the Metro with Apple Girl, hoping she’s not taking me on a long ride to a painful death. With each train station we pass, that seems less and less likely. There are plenty of mob bosses out in the east side where I live; they wouldn’t need to send me on a train ride out of town to torture me into collecting for them.

The car is half occupied, the rush-hour just starting, but Apple Girl’s in a row by herself, sitting by the window and watching the slum houses go by like it’s critically important that she burn each one into her memory. She’s avoided looking at me since we left my apartment. I’m standing near the train door, hand on a metal pole that holds up the thin, waist-high partition between us.

“What’s your name?” I ask. She glances at me, then crosses her arms across her red slicker. The movement reminds me that I still don’t know what’s underneath.

“Elena.” She looks back out the window.

I move around to her side of the divider, so I can talk to her without the entire train car overhearing. The rattle of loose windows and creak of the car as it rocks back and forth gives us a small amount of sound privacy.

“Thanks, Elena,” I say.

That finally draws her attention from the crumbling architecture whizzing by outside. She frowns. “Thanks for what?”

“For telling me your true name.”

She seems irritated by this. “I could be lying about that.”

She’s so bad at lying it makes me grin. I put my hand on the seatback and lean in to whisper in her ear, “I don’t think so,” just to provoke her some more. She scoots closer to the window, giving me a dirty look, and I pull back, internally chastising myself. I’m already on a very dangerous, slippery slope with her—liking the way she smells, the way she looks, the way she talks back to me and isn’t afraid.

“What’s your name?” she asks, and there’s that edge again. That defiance, like everything that comes out of her mouth is a direct challenge to something about me.

“Lirium,” I say automatically, then add, “That’s not my real name,” and instantly regret it.

“What’s your real name?”

I ignore her question, fold my arms, and lean back against the partition. That was a stupid mistake. I need to be more careful, not get taken in by her. Her story about her little sister on her death bed doesn’t hold up: those kids have their whole lives ahead of them. They can get the best medical treatment and still never use up all their future worth. Elena has something else—someone else—she wants this hit for, although she seems to be sticking to the little sister story for now.

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