Defying Winter (Thieves' Guild Origins: LC Book Three): A Fast Paced Scifi Action Adventure Novel

by C. G. Hatton

  I cradled my arm and tried to move my fingers.

  Nothing.

  Damn. I’d been so close.

  As I was sitting there feeling sorry for myself, the beam vibrated. Almost imperceptibly. No noise.

  I only knew one person who could move that quietly.

  NG sat next to me without a word. I didn’t know what to say and he didn’t say anything. But somehow it wasn’t unnerving, it was settling. As if I could just be.

  “What if I told you…” he said eventually, quietly, without looking at me, “that the more patient you are now, the faster you’ll get to the top of that standings board.”

  I wanted to believe it. I wanted to believe I could make it there. But I felt like I was always going to be the runt, the smallest, playing catch up the whole damned time. Stuck in a briefing room decoding cyphers because I was the only one who could, and never let out for real.

  “Stunts like this don’t help,” he chided. “You just broke your arm.”

  I looked down at it, nestled in my lap. They must have run scans by remote. It didn’t feel like it was broken. Didn’t feel like I wanted to move it though.

  “You want to know what’s redacted out of Andreyev’s file?” NG said softly. “How many times he broke his arm, broke an ankle once, wrist twice, before he made that run in under three? You’re right.” He glanced sideways at me. “Disabling the safety protocol is the only way down that wall fast enough. But believe me, it takes as much luck as it does skill.”

  Luck? That’s a concept I don’t deal well with. Whatever anyone might think of me.

  I didn’t know what to say. I’d almost had it. For the sake of millimetres I could have had the record. And instead I was sitting like a chump with a broken arm and no chance of ever going out again.

  I bit my lip and stared into the darkness of the Void, chest rattling with each intake of breath. Bastard electrobes were multiplying. I didn’t care.

  NG held out a vial of antidote without a word.

  It helped ease the pressure. Didn’t make me feel any better.

  We sat there for a while longer, just sitting, then he said quietly, “You want to know something else? Andreyev never passed a Paninski either. You’re not the only one the guild has made an exception for.” He tightened the wraps around his hands as if he was going to run the Maze himself. NG was the only non field-op who ever went in there. I’d never seen any times recorded for him. “Get yourself up to Medical,” he said eventually. “That’s a nasty break, you need to get it sorted. Then go find Mendhel.” He looked up and right at me. “You’re back on the list. You have a tab.”

  Something about the look on Mendhel’s face made me stop in the doorway of the briefing room and squint at him sideways.

  “Come sit down,” he said.

  I hovered there, not convinced, even though I was itching to know what was going on. Medical had kept me in for a couple of days. The arm had needed surgery and they wanted to make sure there were no after effects from the crack on the head. Good thing I had a thick skull, they said. It was another standard joke.

  Mendhel pushed a board across the table. “Felix Dennison has been invited to spend the school break with the Kilkennys at their home on Winter.”

  Holy shit.

  I couldn’t walk in fast enough, pulling out a seat and sitting, stomach flipping just at the thought of it. “You’re kidding me.”

  It was another chance to see Imogen. Another chance to get close to UM.

  “I’ve heard it’s great there,” Mend said. “Mountains… heated lakes…” He raised his eyebrows.

  I might have blushed. I hadn’t included that detail in my debrief.

  “There’s a whole bunch of kids from that school going,” he said, nudging the board, “but with a broken arm…” He nodded towards the cast encasing my left forearm and hand. “…you should be able to avoid any fighting.”

  I glanced at the board. They’d worked fast. The guild’s attention to detail was stunning. Felix Dennison had broken his arm on a yacht in the Atlantic Ocean on Earth two days ago. Treated in a private hospital in RDJ, scans logged and everything.

  Mendhel tapped on the table to get my attention. “Two months ago, UM increased security around their corporate headquarters.”

  Where the vault was.

  “We’re assuming it’s because UM is hosting the annual coalition conference in three weeks’ time. Edvard Ballack is going to be there. And Ennio Ostraban.”

  I knew the names. Ballack – Head of the Merchants’ Guild, Ostraban – Chair of the Wintran coalition. My heart was still thumping at the thought of seeing Imogen again.

  “We’ve been trying to get someone on the inside of Kilkenny’s operation for years,” Mendhel said. “Looks like you’ve managed to pull it off.”

  I nudged the board. The tab was worth more cash than I’d earned yet.

  “We’re not sending you into the heart of Winter lightly. Bale is switching to extraction.”

  I looked up. Sienna had always dissed the ETs, enthusiastically, with disgust. Now she was one?

  “Her request,” Mend said. “She said she’s always pulling your ass out of trouble, might as well make it official and get the pay to make it worthwhile.” He was joking, jesting softly. But then he looked serious again. “You’ll have Bale and Jensonn with you on the ground this time. Bodyguards. Discrete but they’ll be right there. The Dennisons wouldn’t send their favourite son to holiday Winter-side without making sure he was in safe hands.”

  Favourite son? Sotheby might have something to say about that.

  Mendhel leaned forward and swiped his hand across the board. “There’s a reason your ‘father’ has accepted the invitation.” A list of documents appeared on the screen. “Trade negotiations across the line don’t always go through official channels. We want you to get in there and get everything you can. Find out why they’ve escalated their security status. We’ll give you everything you need. We have a network of deep cover agents on Winter. You won’t be able to contact them but they’ll be there. We’ll give you a code word. Anyone, anywhere, ever, says that word to you, you trust them, with your life. And we’ll have another ET on stand-by. All the information is here. Play this one safe, LC. I know fine well that you know the amulet is there. Leave it there.” He peered at me intently. “Do you understand?”

  I nodded, trying to slow my heart rate.

  Mendhel looked at me like he knew what was going through my mind.

  I wanted that amulet and I knew there had to be a way to get to it.

  Chapter 11

  We had to go via Earth to make sure all our flight plans and jump records were legit, so it was a long series of jumps to get Winter-side. I wish I could say I’d spent the time going over the intel I’d been given but I spent the entire journey fleecing Jensonn at poker. I’d been through all the data once. If there was anything I didn’t know already, I wasn’t going to understand any of it any better for going through it all again. And Jensonn made me laugh. He didn’t mention Kheris once, and as much as I wanted to know more, I wanted to know if he’d been Thieves’ Guild while he was there like Loic Emerson and Charlie had been, I didn’t ask and he didn’t bring it up.

  Once we hit the Wintran inner system, we were escorted in from jump distance by fast response UM militia vessels. Heavily armed militia vessels. A courtesy, they insisted. VIP treatment for a special visitor. Nothing to do with the fact that we were flying under an Imperial flag.

  Thing is, at that time, in such esteemed and civilised circles, the galaxy was not at war. Not war like I’d known on Kheris. Those were skirmishes in the back of beyond Between, fighting over mining rights and trade routes to make a show of strength. Nothing serious. A million miles from these people. In the privileged airspaces of the two main spheres of power and influence, Earth and Winter, a pretence of peace masqueraded amongst trade agreements and diplomatic discussions, ambassadors and envoys mediated by negotiators from neutral guild
s like the Merchants. It didn’t take much to see that it was all a thin veneer over a boiling pot of animosity that was liable to spill over into conflict at any moment. What I didn’t realise at the time was how much influence other parties were wielding, stirring that boiling pot and adding fuel to the fire.

  We docked and disembarked at an orbital, heading off our corporate cruiser to be escorted by UM staff who took us through plush corridors with a string of check points and security channels before we could transfer to the Kilkenny private jet. At each stage it felt like we were getting further and further into the lion’s den, finally dropping down to the surface of Winter in pure corporate, anti-gravity controlled comfort.

  The jet landed at an airfield in the centre of a private estate, and we walked out into a crisp bright cold that took my breath away. Bright blue skies and sunshine reflected off a veneer of immaculately white snow. We were met by a contingent of staff, the UM personnel acknowledging my entourage with curt nods and professional courtesy, even though they were all, both sides, carrying barely concealed weapons. It was all civil as hell but, shit, the tension in the air was fraught, as a Wintran corporation begrudgingly welcomed in a party from Earth.

  Sienna and Jensonn stayed close, bodyguarding to an extreme, as we were shown to a huge limo, one of Kilkenny’s people saying curtly, “Miss Imogen is out riding. If you would like to come this way…”

  Miss Imogen…? I was so far out of my depth. I should have run a mile.

  The UM staff took my bags, one of them even reaching for my backpack, and as I couldn’t help but twitch to refuse it, to stop them, and fight them if necessary, Sienna steadied me with a hand on my shoulder.

  “Breathe,” she sent privately.

  I tried. I really was trying. She squeezed, reassuring. I let go of the bag and forced myself to calm. There was nothing in there that I cared about and I didn’t know why it felt so bad.

  This was a tab. An assignment. I was acting a part. The fact I was about to see Imogen again, when I thought I’d blown it and would never…

  Sienna nudged me into walking, boots crunching in the soft snow, towards the vehicle.

  “Suck it up, kid,” she sent calmly. “You wanted this.”

  This being a tab. To be out on guild work. To have a target and an acquisition to chase. Even if the one I was obsessed with wasn’t the one I had actually been assigned. I breathed through the fluttering in my stomach and walked. Everywhere in the galaxy was enemy territory now. I wasn’t Earth or Wintran. And I was no longer a child of the Between. I was Thieves’ Guild. And, you know our mantra, no one messes with the Thieves’ Guild.

  I could do this.

  The limo pulled up next to open snow-covered fields. I stared out of the window of the car as we stopped. Imogen was unmistakable. She was riding a huge black thoroughbred. If I’d thought Anya Halligan was wild, Imogen Kilkenny was a force of nature. She was riding bareback, wearing fur-topped boots and cold weather gear, hood thrown back, her hair loose and streaming behind her as she thundered around the field with perfect control over the massive stallion even in these conditions, with no saddle or reins.

  She must have heard the limo. She glanced over her shoulder as I climbed out, and I couldn’t help but stare, transfixed, as she wheeled the horse around, its head tossing, breath frosting, powerful muscles dancing as its hooves dug deep into the frozen turf to change direction.

  I left the car behind me and walked out to meet her as she rode up and jumped down, running to grab me in a hug and whisper in my ear, “You just made my summer.”

  She stepped back and smiled. Her carefree hair was an illusion, loose but braided in tiny elaborate cross-hatching patterns with sparkling gems threaded through it, and the coat she was wearing probably cost more than I’d earned in the past two years. To be fair, even though I’d refused outright to wear a shirt, tie and blazer, I was wearing clothes that were all from the most exclusive fashion houses on Earth, embarrassingly expensive. More expensive, I think, because I’d made such a fuss about the tie. For simple cold weather attire, they were ridiculously soft and warm, well made. Wealth has its advantages, but it still made me uneasy. That was what was making me feel like I was an imposter, way more than the fact I was there as an undercover operative about to steal their most intimate industrial and commercial secrets.

  Imogen took my right hand and squeezed tight, saying again, the same as she had at the lake, “I knew you’d come.”

  I would have picked her up and spun her around but my arm was still in a cast. I settled for giving her a peck on the cheek, aware that Sienna and Jensonn were watching, standing by the limo with arms folded, Sienna sending a private tight wire nudge and a bemused, “Jesus, kid, you don’t do things by halves, do you?”

  I bit down a smile and ignored her, letting Imogen slip her arm around my waist and lead me towards the horse.

  “We’ll see you at the house,” Sienna sent. “Can I trust you out of our sight for ten minutes?”

  “It’s a secure estate, Sienna,” I sent back as we walked away. “What can happen?”

  “Seriously? With your track record, LC…?”

  I threw her a grin and cut the connection.

  My boots crunched in the snow, the cold clear air biting at my cheeks. Imogen was chattering away as we walked along the path to the main house, the horse huffing and tossing its head beside us.

  I was only half listening.

  She stopped and peered at me with a smile.

  “Your arm,” she said as if she’d said it once already. “What did you do? I was going to take you up into the mountains.”

  “It’s just fractured,” I lied, not wanting to admit I’d fallen while climbing, but she’d moved on already, walking again and talking non-stop about the weather forecast, asking intently if I thought I could still ski with my arm like that.

  I shrugged. I didn’t know if I could ski even if my arm wasn’t broken. “Who else is coming?”

  “Coming to stay?” She let go of me to push open a heavy iron gate that led through to a courtyard beyond, liveried staff appearing to take the horse. Imogen patted it on the neck as it was led away, and turned to me with a smile. “No one. Just you.”

  My stomach flipped. Just me? So much for having a bunch of friends over.

  “Aki and the others aren’t here?”

  She shook her head, eyes bright.

  As a set up, it wasn’t the worst I’d had thrown at me. At least I wouldn’t have to contend with idiot rich kids I had no patience for. I didn’t know what to say to her and didn’t trust I wouldn’t blurt out something stupid but the limo pulling alongside to take us round to the front entrance saved me from having to respond.

  Imogen grabbed my hand and pulled me forwards with a cheery, “Come on, let’s get inside. It’s almost time for dinner. I asked chef to make a chocolate cheesecake. Baked chocolate cheesecake.” She squeezed my hand, excited, as if she’d arranged that just for me. As if she’d been watching my reaction every time we had some exquisite chocolate dessert at Westings. It wasn’t just gun oil and smoke that sent me flashing back to Kheris with no warning. And not all the flashbacks were bad.

  Sienna stepped out of the car and held open the door for us.

  Imogen leaned in close as we approached and murmured, “My parents are waiting for us. My father even rearranged a business trip to be here. He won’t admit it but I would bet a month’s allowance it’s so he can meet you.”

  A month’s allowance? That would probably run a small colony for a year.

  Sienna was close enough to overhear. She was slick, impressive as hell as a bodyguard, cool as she stood there in a long black coat, dark sunglasses, polished boots and black gloves, nodding slightly as we climbed in. She gave no outward sign at all as she linked on the Senson and sent with a laugh, “Kid, out of all the trouble I’ve rescued your cute ass from, this might take the prize…”

  Something in the way Imogen had said it was turning my stomach even
more. “What about your mother?” I asked, uneasy.

  “My mother?” She glanced back over at me with that coy raising of her delicate eyebrows. “Do you seriously think I would tell my mother that I’d invited over a boy from Earth?”

  Redmon Kilkenny sat at the head of the family dinner table, set out on a veranda that must have been shielded from the sub-zero temperatures outside by a forcefield, it was so perfectly pleasantly warm as Winter’s pale sun set behind the snow-topped mountains in the distance, and regarded me with a look somewhere between deep curiosity and amused calculation. And we weren’t even playing poker.

  I say ‘head of the table’ but it was abundantly clear that was not the seat of power. That was well and truly occupied at the opposite end by Remy Kilkenny. Grand matriarch of the third dynasty of United Metals, Rodan by birth, Kilkenny by marriage, and the spitting image of her eldest daughter, plus a few years but she didn’t look anywhere near as old as I knew she was. And if her husband was looking at me with wry wariness, Mrs K was downright glowering with hostility.

  Either she was like this with every kid Imogen brought home or more likely she had, in fact, done her homework and knew fine well where I was from.

  Supposed to be from.

  I picked at a piece of cucumber with my fork, heat rising in my cheeks. I don’t like cucumber and I didn’t know what to do with it once it was on there.

  “He is,” Imogen said with a gentle glance at me, rescuing me and answering the question I’d missed, taken by surprise as all my attention was on the plate in front of me and the crisp white shirt that was strangling me, that a freaking butler’d had to help me button up, insisting on the top button and a neck tie, and hesitating at the cuffs when the sleeve wouldn’t close over the casing on my arm as if he’d never seen the like. We’d compromised by losing the solid gold cufflinks and rolling up the sleeves into those perfect, neat folds Hil could pull off. Even though I’d watched the butler, watched damn closely, I still had no idea how they did it. And I have to admit, the cufflinks went into my pocket. Old habits…