“We need to get...” Scythe said, leaning in and frowning at Aorin’s screen. “Can you move that?”
Startled, she pulled aside a box which was partially covering a pulsing red eye icon. “We are being monitored now.” Her face was losing its color and for the first time since Temper had met her, she seemed unable to think clearly.
“This is the second image,” Temper said, rapidly pulling from her bag the paper that Mercy had drawn on. She pointed to the triangle with the centered cornstalk. “Nathan Corporation, I believe. See if there is another associated with it.” Aorin numbly complied.
Scythe was typing again and shaking his head.
“That’s it. Nathan Corp.” Aorin frowned and tried to shake off the fear that they could all smell on her. She took a deep breath and lifted her fingers, “I’ll pull up what I…What is this?” He eyes flew to the four animals in the corner that had stopped their annoying little dances. “I...think I’ve been shut out.” That galvanized her immediately. Her eyes caught on fire. “Oh, you are mistaken if you think you are cutting me off.” She began to move frames around and type even faster than Scythe.
Temper stood back and began to prioritize. After a moment, she laid her hand on Scythe’s shoulder, “We must plan. I have some ideas.”
“Good. What have you got?”
Aorin was mumbling to herself, “...and when you finally do find your bank account...huh? What’s that? You only have fifty cents in your life’s savings? How could that happen?”
“I can bring this information to the King, if it is indeed him that we need to protect, but I suspect there may be some risk to all who know. We must move immediately. Give me your report, since it includes accusations on a member of the Intelligence department, someone who already may be working to stop us.”
Scythe nodded, “Just about done. Get your portable.”
She removed it from her bag and made it ready for the transmission.
“Here it is,” he said, sending the information. “There is also information there that casts suspicion on Minister Kelreig. He may be related in some way to the terrorist activities, but we haven’t had a chance to check anything yet.”
“That is a very serious accusation.” Kelreig had been appointed by the King to keep him close: powerful, rich, a member of a great family, and ruthless in business.
“I don’t really know him.”
“I do, and we must be careful, very careful, before we use his name.” She wanted to review the information, but there was no time for that now. “I think we can assume they know of us, which means that we and all our families may have become vulnerable to attack.” She stopped when a bizarre clapping and cheering spread through the room.
“The data transfer is done,” Aorin said, “but I haven’t been able to get back into the database.”
Scythe began to load his things into his backpack.
“I think you can stop worrying about that for right now. We have more important issues to focus on. Collect your things and get ready to leave.”
“What?”
“You must focus, Aorin. You may be in danger, so you need to leave with us. How much of your data can be transported?”
“All of it,” she said, turning to her display.
“Good. Get it ready now.”
Scythe said, “Where will you go?”
“We must go to the Hedeler first, and then to the King himself.”
He looked surprised, “We?”
“I believe I will need support, and there are few better than you for that position.”
“But,” he began, but stopped when she spoke in a sharp voice.
“Scythe, the King is a cousin of mine, as is his son.”
He sobered and then said, “I am sorry. It will be my honor to assist you, Temper.”
She nodded, “Thank you. Now, are we ready?”
“Ready,” Aorin said, placing the last of her things onto a small, wheeled cart that she had pulled out from under her desk and unfolded.
“That is a lot to haul around,” Scythe commented. “Isn’t this the data drive?” He pointed at a medium-sized box.
“Yes,” she said.
He grabbed it and handed it to Temper, who dropped it in her bag. “Let’s go.”
As they left the room, Scythe cursed from behind them and Temper, pushing Aorin ahead of her, looked back, “What?” He had become very agitated. His entire body was tense and he was frowning down at the device in his hand.
“She has moved away from the house,” he said, pocketing his very expensive tracking device.
“Good, I was going to recommend that anyway. None of our homes is safe right now, don’t you agree?”
“What if they are being taken by force?” he asked, his voice tight and his eyes intense.
“We can do nothing about that at this moment. Focus, Scythe, on what we can do now. The instant we can assist them, we will.” She did not think it would be helpful to mention that lack of movement might have indicated that people were no longer capable of moving.
He made an effort to relax his body, taking a deep breath and pulling his shoulders back and down, and then nodded. A moment later, the concerned man faded away and the Agent she was used to appeared in his place. A smooth mask had covered his face and he strode forward, moving faster than both of them, “Let me go first.”
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She had finished packing up the rest of the things on the list and looked around. This was probably the last time she’d see it, if her intuition were correct. She shrugged a second bag onto her shoulder, picked up the two duffles and turned away from the small apartment.
It was a depressing place anyway, she thought, her mind already on the next thing she needed to take care of. Her pace took her quickly to the back stairs and down to where her car waited.
Anora left behind a sparsely furnished studio in one of the better parts of Quo Ire. Since the bookshelves had long ago been filled two deep, hundreds of books were stacked along the largest wall, completely covering the entertainment unit. The rest of the walls were blank, even the north wall, which was traditionally reserved for family artwork and pictures. The only sign that someone remotely related to the Kin lived there was a little, recently emptied picture frame that lay discarded on a short table next to the pallet on the floor. The rest of the space was hollow.
Chapter 24
Mercy was feeling much better, now that they were moving. She had convinced her father that, since it didn’t matter which way they went as long as they put some distance between themselves and the place they were supposed to be, it was fine for her to pick the direction. So she had chosen to move toward the center of the city, which for some reason was the way she really wanted to go. The pressure in her head had lightened up, although it hadn't stopped or slowed down. She still felt the strong urge to do something, but this way she kind of tricked herself into believing that she was.
“I think this is far enough,” said Orin, whose agreement to cooperate had only followed a failed attempt to keep them in the house. Jin and Steven had automatically sided with Ian, so it merely took a little demonstration of Ian’s power to remind him that he couldn’t stop the four of them if he wanted to. He pulled the truck over to the side of the road and parked it. “We will give it a half hour, and then we are heading back.”
Nobody answered him since that had never been discussed. Mercy intended to wait until Scythe showed up, which she was convinced he would do when he saw that her location had changed. Then she could tell him about the vision. She knew that he would do exactly the right thing. He was the one who could help the red dragon save his family.
How she knew this, she had no idea.
She sat back against the truck wall, something that just this morning she didn’t think she would be doing again for a while. The thick vest that her father and Scythe made her wear pushed against her uncomfortably and was also too warm for the stuffy compartment, but she had promised them that when she wa
s in the Capital she would wear it constantly, so she did.
She tried to distract herself, since her father had joined the card game with Jin and Steven; Orin wasn’t in a playful mood anymore. Looking down the length of the truck and through the open hatch that divided the back from the tiny communication alcove and the driver’s cab, she could see that the Kin was sitting in the driver’s seat, keeping his eyes on the street and the rearview mirrors. It reminded her of how Scythe always made sure to scan the area whenever they were...well, whenever…Scythe, who had taken pains to continue her lessons on the road because he didn’t believe in free moments when there was something waiting to be learned.
“I don’t think I’ll need this,” she had said, not liking the way the blade felt in her hand. She was so clumsy. She just knew that she had no potential for learning how to fight with a knife.
“What was rule 12 again?” He thrust his blade at her, slightly faster than before.
“Don’t question, just do,” she recited. She failed entirely to block it, her hand moving too slowly and too high. “See? I just died.” Of course, he never even came close to scratching her, even when she thought he was going too fast or hard to stop.
“Again.” That was his favorite word.
“I don’t like number twelve.” This time she barely blocked it, her second hand moving almost simultaneously with a slash to the tendons in the upper arm. Since her blade was covered, she didn’t have to worry about hurting him and could apply the amount of pressure that he said was required.
“Twelve is your friend. Embrace rule twelve.” His blade, naturally, was bare. He said it was a good motivator. Such a jerk.
“You say that about all the rules.”
He nodded. When she groaned after missing again, he said, “Don’t stop if you fail to block, just counter regardless.”
“But...I’ll get cut.”
“Yes, that’s probably going to happen anyway if you are in a knife fight. You...”
“What?” she screeched.
“This is part of your training. You need to be prepared to be hurt, so that when it happens, you won’t panic.” He held up his hand, the signal for her to listen until he was done. “When you see a knife, you need to think, ‘I’m going to get cut, but I’m still going to win.’ So, when we’re practicing, say that to yourself until you don’t have to. Do that until, when you see a knife, you are thinking about the blocks and the counters and not about how sharp it is. When you get really good, you won’t even have to think about the techniques. For now though, you want to drill yourself out of a fear of knives, so that the fear won’t be a bigger enemy than the guy with the knife.” He stabbed at her.
She blocked and countered. “So I’m not supposed to be afraid at all?” That seemed hard to believe.
Stab. “No, you’ll always have a healthy fear, the kind that will encourage you to pay attention and not talk in the middle of a knife fight.”
Such a jerk. He knew that his words were sharper than the blade.
She uncrossed her arms and rested her hand on the knife he had finally felt confident enough to make her keep at her side. It was in a sheath strapped on the outside of her pants. She felt totally stupid with it on, like she was pretending to be like him. Even though her father and Scythe agreed that there were at least two opportunities in her future where she might be able to benefit from a weapon, she thought it was kind of useless. She knew from her visions that she wouldn’t use it, but it made them feel better, so she wore it.
Noticing Orin checking the time, she glanced over at her father, who was thinking the same thing that she was. Where was he?
“It’s been forty minutes,” the Kin said.
Ian responded, “We’re waiting.”
The large man sighed heavily and continued to watch the road.
At an hour, he said, “I’d better contact Summer, if we are staying any longer.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned around, reached over and flipped on the short range communicator. “Summer, this is Orin. Checking in.”
He waited for a response and then called one more time. After a few minutes without a word from the woman, everyone was on edge.
“It’s only a handful of blocks away,” Orin said. “We could move closer and then I could scout it.”
“She’s not answering because either she can’t or she won’t. Either way, it’s not good,” Steven said when he was told Orin's plan. “We should move farther…”
“There is no question about whether we are going to check her situation,” Ian said sternly, and then nodded to Orin and said in Kin, “Let’s try your plan, Orin.”
“Good,” he said, starting up the engine. “Besides, if there is trouble, staying here after using the radio isn’t a great idea.”
He took the truck around the block, and they headed back the way they had come.
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Anora pulled up to the storehouse, frowning at the lack of lights. Even though it was early evening, it was still dark enough that she would have had a little light on inside. They must be hiding their presence here, she thought. Still, it made her nervous, so she decided to go around the building.
A few minutes later, she arrived at the back door, having scouted out the area closely without spotting anything suspicious. She could not hear a sound in the building, which was strange since she knew there were at least a few Humans among them. She knew Scythe was not there, or he would already be at the door, arms crossed and shaking his head at her. Given the missing truck, it was likely they were gone. There must have been an unexpected change in plans. She drew a deep breath in through her nose, but smelled nothing worrisome.
She unlocked the door and cautiously entered. There was no one there, but the presence of extra gear told her that the ones she expected to be there had arrived at least. She scented the air. Humans, at least three, maybe four, and three kin plus Scythe. She didn’t like that they weren’t where he said they would be. She couldn’t remember a time when he had miscalculated badly enough to lose seven people. After checking all the rooms, upstairs and down, she made her way back to the rear and let herself out.
She walked quickly back toward her car, but passed it, rounding a corner and quickly turning around, crouching down, and hugging the tall fence next to her. She had already taken out her gun and removed the safety. Only a fool would fall for this one, she thought to herself, hating sloppy, last-minute maneuvers; he would definitely be amused when he heard that she had tried to pull off this one.
The sound of footsteps, and a fool to follow in them. But, instead of coming around the corner, he slowed and then stopped before reaching the end. Damn.
She held still, listening. He didn’t take a step, but she heard the rustling of a jacket as he pulled out the same thing she had smelled when she passed the alley.
Then, past the edge of the fence she had glued her eyes to, she saw a military truck approaching from down the street. She didn’t have a chance to determine if it was the people she was looking for, or some kind of crazy coincidence, because her pursuer moved. Around the corner, the gun appeared, shot above her, and then angled down to take another two shots at lower trajectories. Then it retracted and she heard running. Having sprung aside at the first sight of the weapon, she rolled to the right and was up and after him in a heartbeat, her head ringing. She hated it when she got shot at. It was damn dangerous and it really hurt the ears.
The van turned the corner, passed her and then veered in front of him, squealing as it cut sharply across the road and ran up onto the sidewalk. He took a leap, assisted by a hand on the hood and a kick to the wall, and slid across the front of the truck. Then he landed and started running again. He took four long strides before, amazingly, he tripped. One second he was picking up the pace again, and the next, he went sprawling, his arms reaching out in front of him to stop his fall. Then, his arms were pulled back, and he hit the pavement with his face.
What the hell?
As she rounde
d the truck, she recognized the man who had flung open the passenger door and was hurrying over to survey the damages. Two others she didn’t know joined them. Her pursuer’s face was a mess of torn flesh and blood and a severely broken nose. He was screaming pitifully from what had to be an unbearable amount of pain. It was eerie to see him wriggling on the ground with his hands pinned tightly to his sides by nothing she could see.
Although it was clear that he was no threat, she knelt down and took his gun and the few other weapons that he had on him. There was no identification to be found.
When she stood up she said, “Ian Young, that was a nasty piece of work.”
The Human was frowning as if he was also distressed by what he had done, despite his boastful next words, “Yes, well, when he tried to shoot you, he lost his free pass.”
She didn’t know what a free pass was, some Human thing, but she was almost sorry he had lost it. Anyone civilized would be disturbed by that kind of damage and suffering.
The large Kin who had been driving the truck asked, “Who is he?”
“Don’t know. He followed me from Scythe’s place.”
“Was Summer there?”
“No one was there.” They didn’t like that, and they turned their dislike on the man whose existence had degenerated to low moans and a pitiable sobbing.
“Let’s get him patched up enough that his mouth works,” one of the Humans that Anora didn’t know said coldly in Human. They were so brutal, as a race.
Together, they picked him up and loaded him into the back of the truck. Then they started patching him up with a medical kit that Orin had taken from a side compartment. It was inside that she finally saw the young woman, the reason for all the upheaval in their lives: Mercy Young.
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