by Mary Wine
And he owed it to Sophia.
For a moment, he indulged himself and grinned. His trainee was a bundle of surprises. Their tumble to Earth replayed itself and he shook his head. As much as he needed to scold her for taking such a mad risk, part of him enjoyed it immensely. She had courage and the spirit of a warrior.
His grin faded and his grip tightened on the door handle. He had no idea where they were, which made it a very inconvenient time to have his encounter with a Root Ball.
When he opened the door the second time, he was prepared for the shock of the light. They were parked under some trees, other wagons forming a circle. Women were tending pots over fires while children ran about. All of their clothing was bright, much of it decorated with spangles that flashed in the sunlight.
Bion’s boots were placed at the bottom of the steps that led down from the wagon. Balanced across the top of one was a pair of purple-tinted glasses. He picked them up, feeling a rush of satisfaction that quickly died. He could not be content while Sophia was still so exposed to danger.
“You’re supposed to put them on, not hold them, Bion. You need them.”
He flinched, his hand tightening around the glasses as Sophia appeared from the side of the wagon.
“What I need is to teach you not to take such chances with your life.”
She propped her hands on her hips. The gesture made the spangles on her Roma gypsy scarf dance. She had it draped over her head like the other women and was dressed in a colorful tiered skirt as well. If not for her blond hair, it would be easy to take her for a Roma woman.
“I got us off that ship and managed to get you what you wanted too,” she insisted.
Bion flipped the glasses open and slid them into place over his eyes. Sophia watched him through her own purple lenses as he stooped to put his boots on. She could tell he wanted to continue the conversation, but it would wait until he decided he was ready to face their situation. He really was a man of action.
She rather liked him without his boots on.
Without anything on, you mean.
“You need me at my best, Sophia.”
“We needed a diversion. You mentioned the necessity yourself.” She paused for a moment, trying to keep herself from sounding too pleased. She was ecstatic, but it felt like a weakness in the face of his stern disapproval. He was such a complex man, almost like the Roman god Janus, who had two faces. He loomed over her once his boots were on, and it irritated her.
“I am doing rather well at taking care of you,” she muttered.
Surprise registered on his face before frustration made his nostrils flare. “You are my trainee.”
“It seems we are both trainees now.” She smiled slowly. “And I am a more senior student.”
His eyes narrowed to slits, promising her an argument. Instead of being annoying, she found herself relieved to have him restored to his normal, overbearing self.
Someone laughed nearby. Bion spun around, throwing out a protective arm to keep Sophia behind him.
“That’s Abraham. He’s our host and the leader of these people,” Sophia explained.
Abraham had a full beard that covered his collar and was speckled with gray. “I see you are awake at last. Good. I was worried you might starve to death.”
“Bion, behave. Abraham is our host. We were sleeping in a riverbank cave before he found me,” Sophia warned in a low tone.
“So you thought revealing our position was a wise move?” Bion demanded.
“Better than waiting for Mr. Graves to discover us.” She shot a hard glare back into his dark eyes. “And Abraham promised to take us as far as a city. I couldn’t do it without help. You were unconscious.”
“A fact you are responsible for.” His voice had lowered, making her lean closer to make out his words.
She slowly smiled, recognizing the wounded pride of a warrior in his tone. “Well now, Mr. Donkova. Do not lavish me with so much praise; my head will surely explode.”
He groaned softly and relaxed, allowing her to move away from him, but he reached down and swatted her on her rump as she went. She jumped, her face turning scarlet.
“Are you mad?” she sputtered.
Abraham smiled brightly. “No. He is making it plain you are his.” The Roma leader locked gazes with Bion for a long moment. “And that he is your protector. Your man knows the Roma way.”
Abraham spread his arms wide. “You are welcome in our caravan. The wagon is yours until you leave us.” He offered them a half bow before leaving.
“Wait,” Bion called, but Abraham was already extending his hand to another person.
“What did you expect?” she groused. “You greeted him like a mastiff intent on establishing his territorial boundaries.”
Bion turned on her, his lips set into a mocking grin that she recognized instantly. She stepped back but he’d already cupped her cheeks and claimed her mouth. She should have tried to escape. Should have pushed him away. Instead she gripped the edges of his vest, her lips following his lead. He showed her no mercy, not a shred of concern for her modesty. The kiss was hard and passionate. Without a care for how many watched, he continued the kiss until she was breathless and fighting to maintain her composure. Only then did he release her.
“Now I’ve behaved like a mastiff.” There was a pleased smirk on his lips, and he reached up and mimicked the motion of tipping his hat to her, then turned and went after Abraham.
“Damn you,” she flung after him.
And damn her for liking it so very much.
***
Jordon Camden was not a man who gave away his feelings. His expression was controlled, along with his body. No fiddling fingers to betray eagerness or a tapping foot to help Aetos know when the man was getting excited.
“I was told you were the man to see about Trackers,” Captain Aetos repeated himself as his cup of Turkish coffee went cold.
Camden didn’t let his own suffer that fate. He sipped at it slowly, allowing the aroma to fill his senses before taking another taste.
“Are you going to answer me or not?” Aetos growled.
Camden shot the captain a deadly look. Aetos wasn’t blind to how dangerous the man might be if provoked. Beneath his silk vest and fine shirt was solid muscle.
“The art of tracking is one of patience.” Camden continued to enjoy his coffee. “In this case, the prey is loose and highly valuable. This is not the same civilized Europe you are from. Here, the regions are controlled by noblemen still operating under the rules of serfdom.”
“Are you saying you cannot find them?”
The coffee was set aside. “If you are willing to pay the price, anything can be yours.”
“I thought you were a compatriot.”
“I am also a businessman,” Camden countered quietly. “As are you. So kindly spare me the lecture on loyalty. Neither of us are Helikeians for the glory of the cause. You are here because you have lost a fledgling Navigator.” He clicked his tongue in reprimand. “Very careless of you.”
“She dove over the side,” Aetos defended himself.
Camden drew in a long, deep breath. “An obvious reaction to her circumstances. Females require special handling. An accomplished man can make any member of the gentle sex his pet, but only if he can master his own impulses.”
Aetos snickered. “You seem to have a talent for it.”
The two females attending them were both nude from the waist up. One was a trim girl with small breasts crowned with rosebud nipples. The other was a curvy woman with dark skin and fire in her eyes. Around each of their necks was a collar of plain leather. A bell dangled from the front of each, ringing delicately every time one of them moved.
“Do you like my pets?” Camden waved them forward. Each wore a single garment, a wrap of sorts that tied at their left hip. When they moved, the fringe
trim shifted to give him a peek at their mons. “Each is unique.”
“I heard that about you.” Aetos worked to speak up. He was finding it hard to concentrate with so much female flesh on display—and so willingly too. “You’re like some pasha. The rumors say you have a harem and that you use it voraciously.”
“What I am is a connoisseur, a collector of art. Females are only one of my collections.” He finished off his coffee and the darker-skinned female took his cup away, her bell tinkling. “You see, I find the challenge of transforming vinegar into sweet wine irresistible.”
“Wine comes from grapes. There’s no secret there.”
Camden smiled wickedly. “Ah, but I enjoy the challenge of testing my stamina. Any fool born with a cock can fuck. I demand more of myself. I have an experienced Tracker. He can begin tonight. My fee is nonnegotiable. I assure you my network of informants is unsurpassed, much like my collection of pets.”
Aetos had to swallow to clear his throat. “Deal.”
“In addition, you will provide me with one unique item to add to my collections. Disappoint me with my object of art and I will have my doorman turn you away next time you ask for my help.”
“I heard you were picky about how you were paid. I don’t have time to find you a gift. I’ll double your fee.”
“I am a connoisseur and gold is not the only thing worth collecting. You’ll bring me something unique or find another man to track your Navigators.” Camden let out a sigh and leaned back.
Aetos fought the urge to argue. He also had to temper the urge to look up at the heavens, where he would far prefer to be, far away from having to bend to the demands of anyone. He shrugged. “If those are the terms, I’ll meet them.”
Jordon grinned. “You might just enjoy looking for my gift. Seeking out the unusual is its own reward. You really should consider approaching life as an admirer.”
Aetos shifted his gaze to the other female. “I can do that. I’d be very happy to let you know if your pet’s skill is the best I’ve encountered.”
Camden chuckled once again, the tone dark and sinister. “You show promise.”
“I enjoy a good challenge, Captain.”
For a moment, Aetos studied the man, surprised to discover someone very much like himself.
***
Lykos held out a gloved hand for Decima. For once, she took it. There was a smile on her face any high society matron would approve of as she allowed herself to be escorted. Lykos touched the brim of his beaver silk top hat several times as they strolled past other couples. Anyone watching them would think they were taking the air before continuing on their journey.
At last, another couple stopped to greet them, the gentleman extending what looked like a calling card. Lykos slipped it into his vest pocket. In a few moments, the couple moved on. Lykos guided her around the park a few more times before moving back to the escalator that led away from the afternoon promenade. The park was near the rail station. Trains connected Europe, and it was the best place to seek out the newest information. Their Illuminist pins drew the right attention. Other Hunters recognized them by the gold insignia.
Still, it was a slow, frustrating process. But there had been no word of Bion or Sophia at the air station. Coming to the park was a desperate action, but there were Hunters who did not wear their pins in plain sight. They were firmly established in their roles among the non-Illuminist society and would not risk being discovered by going to the Solitary Chamber.
“Delightful afternoon, Miss Talaska.”
“Only if we have something to show for our efforts.” Decima withdrew her hand before Lykos could place a kiss on the back of it. She lowered her eyelashes to avoid making eye contact with him when he frowned at her.
He sighed and withdrew the card. It was actually a small envelope. The letter inside it was written on eggshell parchment so that it might be pressed flat and masquerade as a calling card. He scanned the card, trying to fit together the bits of information gathered from their network of Hunters across Europe. No one ever disappeared completely. There was always some clue, and it was up to him to discover where to look for his comrades.
Decima came close again. Her presence was distracting, dividing his focus. For all that he teased and toyed with her at times, he did not have time for distractions. They so often proved fatal in the field.
She pointed at one line of ink. He looked closer, rereading the bit of information: “Pirate attack on the vessel Crown Jewel. No survivors. One man found on ground with parachute attached dead from gunshot wound.”
“Only one man in a parachute?”
“He might have panicked and deserted,” Lykos remarked.
“Which would not account for the gunshot wound,” Decima countered.
“No, it would not.” He folded the letter and tucked it back into his vest. “It seems we are not long for fair France. That body was found in Germany.”
“Along the passageway returning from the Arctic volcano fields.”
“Exactly,” Lykos agreed.
The body was their clue. The trade routes between the Arctic Deep Earth harvest fields weren’t known by the Society around them. But the Illuminist airships used them all the time. It was the most likely place a Navigator would be needed.
Decima didn’t wait for Lykos to take action. She raised her hand for a carriage to stop for them. He watched her, enjoying the way she confidently took on the world. Unlike the other ladies strolling in their afternoon frocks, Decima wouldn’t wait for her escort to get what she needed. She was an accomplished Hunter and her gender made her unique. Even among the Illuminists, a female Guardian was rare.
That was the only reason he thought about her so much.
***
Sophia leaned against a tree, darkness wrapped around her as the members of the caravan enjoyed a communal fire. Someone was playing a lively tune on a violin. The older members of the group sat close to the fire, babies on their knees. The younger people stayed back from the light, many of them disappearing into the darkness two by two.
You wouldn’t mind a little of that yourself.
Her inner voice was intent on prompting her into action. It needled her, reminding her of the long hours she’d shared that cave with Bion, worrying that he might not recover. Or how she had felt when Captain Aetos had made it clear that Bion would be the one to suffer if she didn’t perform.
Go to him.
Enough!
She hugged herself and leaned her cheek against the tree. The bark was a poor substitute for what she wanted touching her—what she longed for. She huffed, taking the opportunity to express her frustration.
“You should not hide in the dark.” Abraham’s wife, Barbara, walked up, the firelight reflecting off the two gold hoop earrings she wore. Her earlobes were stretched from their weight, indicating that she’d had them for many years. “That man is brooding; he is more stubborn than you,” she said. “Go to him before he strangles on his pride.”
Sophia shook her head. “It is not simply pride.”
Barbara cackled with amusement. “Daughter, it is his wounded pride keeping him watching you from across the way. Men do not like it when we women prove our strength to them. Go to him. I see the longing in your eyes. Youth is too quickly gone to waste such a night.”
Was he waiting on her? She scanned the darkness beyond the firelight. Her Navigator’s eyes could see the layers, the places where light had different shades, and she spotted Bion directly across from her. Watching her.
Her body erupted with a flood of sensations, as if the darkness granted her permission—or at the least would mask her wickedness.
Ye cannot be wicked alone.
Oh, she certainly could. Her mind was already full of the things she might like to do, but her mouth went dry as she recalled the whispers she’d heard during her time at the Solitary C
hamber. Illuminist females were raised differently than ladies were. It wasn’t about manners but about sensuality. Nestled inside the huge library were books on passion with illustrations no matron had laid eyes upon.
But Bion had. Of course, it was his world. Her confidence wavered with that thought. The man had taken her, but she honestly had to ask herself if he would have chosen her if there were other women available. After all, Illuminist men were not expected to suffer celibacy simply because they were not married. Weddings only took place when a couple loved one another. Satisfying lust didn’t mandate a trip to the altar. Once wed though, adultery wasn’t tolerated. It was considered a violation of an oath, and if a member wasn’t going to keep one oath, there could be no trusting them to maintain their oath of allegiance to the Order.
The violin player changed tempos and the mood changed. Several other musicians joined in. The wrinkled faces around the fire split with smiles as they moved back to make room. Someone let out a loud whoop and a moment later a man in a dark vest was dancing around the fire. He slapped his hands together, then stretched his arms out wide, dancing in a small circle. It was a slow dance but every motion seemed packed with power. She would have sworn that she felt it radiating across the space between them.
More whoops followed and then several men were dancing. The violins played faster until they reached a zenith and went silent. Then drums began to beat. The violins joined again but the men left the circle. Barbara let out another throaty ripple of amusement.
“Then go dance…” She pushed Sophia away from the tree and swished her hands at her when she hesitated. “Go and tempt him. Entice him to abandon his pride.”
Tempt him?
Now that was a wicked thought. It sent heat curling through her belly like a whip uncoiling. She watched the area around the fire as women filled it, their hair unbound and flowing behind them. They swirled their skirts up, offering tempting peeks at their thighs, then weaving and dipping and turning again. Their upper bodies bent and their hips swayed as they danced. This was not the kind of dancing she’d learned in parlors.