Seven Devils

by Laura Lam

  “I don’t have anything else,” Kyla snapped. “I have ten spies dead in the Three Sisters, and possibly dozens more have had their covers blown by the Oracle. Zoe is the only godsdamned identity that hasn’t been compromised and might hold up to an inspection on Macella.” She let out a frustrated breath. “Look. Just get on that planet. Meet with General Damocles. Sell him something. Get him to trust you. Sher and I need to know what the fuck is going on.”

  Eris swallowed. The last time Eris had seen Damocles, he’d had a spray of blood painted across his cheekbone. Eyes bright with triumph. The full monster out behind the mask.

  “Sell him something,” Eris repeated. “That something will have to be a weapon, Kyla. Zoe’s an arms dealer.”

  “I know, Eris.”

  “That something will have to be a weapon impressive enough to justify a meeting. Enough to take her out of retirement. It’s not something we can half-ass.”

  “I know, Eris.”

  Eris let out a slow breath. She needed to make the commander understand. So she tried another tack. “Kyla, I can’t . . .” Eris’s fingernails dug into her palm. “I may not be able to keep my promise to you. As Zoe. Not for this mission.”

  The silence on the other end was so heavy. The real Zoe Eirene-X-2 had traded in death. Capitalized on it. Eris couldn’t promise not to kill anyone when the woman she was playing was the type to watch a massacre with a smile on her face. It’s just business, as Zoe would say.

  Eris, at the end of it, would have to live with the guilt.

  “I know that, too,” Kyla said. “But I can’t think of another way. If Ariadne’s right and that cargo is intended to be used to make high-density blasts, then this is what we have to go in with. We give Damocles something he’ll think he can use.”

  Eris squared her shoulders. Do your job. “Fine. I need more time, and specs aren’t going to be good enough to earn a face-to-face meeting. With Zoe’s reputation, he’s going to want a prototype. Something he can test.”

  “We don’t have time, Eris.” Kyla made a frustrated noise. “Ariadne will help you with the design, and Clo’s built weapons before. We need one quick.”

  Clo straightened. “Are you seriously asking me to make a killing machine for Damocles?”

  “Clo—”

  Ariadne cleared her throat. “I . . . may have something.” At Eris and Clo’s questioning look, she said, “The Oracle gave me a project—had a fancy code name and everything—but never saw the result. I designed a lot of weapons for fun.”

  For . . . fun. Good gods, this girl. Eris didn’t know whether to be terrified of her or impressed. “Listen, your damned hobby isn’t guaranteed to get us a response, Ariadne. All requests go through Maximus.” As Zoe, Eris had previously interacted with Maximus, the royal weapons tester. “The man comes off as an idiot, but I can promise you, that’s just an act. We need something really convincing.”

  Ariadne chewed her lip. “It’s convincing. It’s also risky, because hardly anyone will know about it. I mean”—she let out a high laugh—“Damocles might just kill you anyway. But. He really wanted this weapon. Like, really, really. Maybe even for this cargo.”

  Before Eris could ask about the details, Kyla interrupted: “We’re fresh out of options, so just send the specs.” Over the line, Eris swore she heard Kyla mutter something that sounded like Fuck me, we’re fucked.

  You don’t say, Eris thought.

  Ariadne loading the specs onto the main screen. The images that came up—the details attached to each one—chilled Eris. They couldn’t hand this over to Damocles. If they did, they’d quash any progress the Novantae had made toward bringing down the Empire.

  Clo’s jaw dropped. “My gods,” Clo said, voice soft with something like awe, then her face hardened in horror. “We can’t let them have something that could do this. Absolutely not.”

  Ariadne nodded, her earlier excitement deflating. “I know. That’s why I never showed the finished specs to the Oracle and kept faking dead-ends. As far as One knows, I was still working on it.”

  Eris settled in one of the chairs and ran a hand through her hair. “Something else, then,” she said. “Preferably something that won’t give the Empire the exact weapon it needs to beat every single one of its enemies into submission. Right, Kyla?” Kyla made a sound of agreement. Good. At least her commander was thinking clearly.

  “Oh! Better news!” Ariadne said, brightening. “I think I can limit the number of times the weapon works before it breaks, and I’ll make sure the Empire can’t recreate it. Or I’ll do my best, anyway.”

  Eris narrowed her eyes. “You think? You’ll do your best?”

  The small girl crossed her arms. “Yes. I will do my best. If you have a better idea, let’s hear it.”

  “Eris.” Kyla let out a breath that echoed through the bridge. “I don’t like this either. But Ariadne’s right. Unless anyone has something else?”

  The silence lengthened. They all knew people might suffer as a result of what they were doing. But if they didn’t act, how many more would?

  Kyla swore softly. “What’s the code word, Ariadne?”

  “Project Harpy.” Ariadne fiddled with the hem of her uniform. “We’ll need a few supplies if we build it. I’ll send the list over with the specs. Um.” She wrung her hands. “I’ll need Evoli DNA, too. For the weapon.”

  “Okay.” Eris had never heard Kyla sound so tense. “I’ll send an unmanned craft with the supplies and the DNA. It’ll get there before you make it to the Three Sisters.”

  “Kyla?” Eris was exhausted and this mission hadn’t even begun.

  “Yeah?”

  “You owe me.” She turned off the transmission.

  “So,” Rhea said, coming through the door of the command center. “How bad is it?” At everyone’s stare, she shrugged. “Apologies for the eavesdropping. Occupational hazard.”

  “It’s bad,” Eris said tightly. She considered Rhea for a moment. “Did you pack any other gowns?”

  Rhea hesitated, bemused. “Just one, if you can call it that. More would have been waiting for me at the Legate’s residence.”

  “Fine. Cosmetics?”

  Even more puzzled, Rhea said, “Some.”

  “Good. Get them for me.” She tapped the button for the intercom, her voice booming across the ship: “Nyx, grab me one of your spare uniforms and pile it outside my door.” Before leaving the command center, she looked at Ariadne and Clo. “Finish up that weapon. And for the love of the gods, don’t let them replicate it.”

  * * *

  —

  Eris made a face as she picked up Rhea’s dress. The fabric was soft as water and just as transparent.

  The real Zoe Eirene-X-2 had been born into a merchant aedifex cohort, and at the time of her death had established influence well beyond the humble origins of her siblings. Eris had studied every detail about her. She was the same height and build as Eris, which made transitioning into Zoe so easy. All it took was a facial and hair shifter.

  Zoe, both real and false, lacked the sophisticated air of someone who had grown up surrounded by politics and spent years learning the proper ways to walk, talk, and hold herself. Rather, she had put on a show of pretending to know these things—but there were just enough cracks in her performance to betray the falsehood.

  Zoe’s smile was a bit too easy. The clothes she wore were a mix of professional and too revealing. She spoke too fast, with a hint of overly practiced refinement. Despite having no practical combat experience, soldiers liked Zoe because she smoked and drank with the best of them. Eris had kept that aspect of Zoe’s identity because it made them more willing to talk to her, to trust her.

  Last time, Eris thought to herself. Then Eris would let Zoe’s name join her body in the fires of Avern.

  “Why me?” she muttered to herself as she held up Rhea’
s dress. Well, dress was too generous a word. It was glittery and didn’t even include strategic covering.

  Nyx’s clothes were better. They were practical, fit for a soldier: slim-cut trousers, boots, heavy buttoned jacket. It included all of her buttons, honors she had earned in battle. Eris ran her fingers along them, recognizing each one. This, for winning a major victory. This, for playing a major role in strategy. So many more.

  Eris dressed as if she were preparing for a battle. In a way, she was. She was doing something the others on this ship wouldn’t be able to.

  Eris tried to kill less than she used to, but she knew when to break her promise to Kyla and Sher. She was invaluable to the resistance for her previous life, but also because she did the horrible things no one else would.

  She took the firewolf figurine out of her pocket and traced the smoothly carved lines of its face. “I can’t take you with me on this one, Xander,” she whispered. “I think you’d be disappointed in what I’ll have to do.”

  With a sigh, she left the firewolf on the table.

  When she walked out of her private quarters and back into the command center dressed as Zoe, a hush went through the room. Eris knew how she looked. She was showing just enough skin to make men ogle but not enough to make them uncomfortable. Beneath Rhea’s sheer, shimmering dress, she wore the undershirt from Nyx’s uniform. Because of their height difference, the undershirt served as a slip.

  Using the shifter embedded in the roof of her mouth, Eris had transformed her face into Zoe. Her jaw was wider, her nose a little longer, and her eyes a bright blue. She looked like someone who had done her time in the battles of business and won.

  Zoe was just another of Eris’s many masks.

  She kept her makeup subtle. A mere hint of shading around her eyes and glitter at her cheeks. To men, it communicated: I care, but I’m not high-maintenance.

  Every choice she made exuded the ideal woman that men thought they wanted. No matter how successful Zoe was, she was still in a cage crafted by men. Eris sometimes wished she had never killed Zoe and taken her identity.

  “Uh,” Clo said, covering her face with her hands. “I feel very uncomfortable.”

  “She means you look beautiful!” Ariadne offered. “Very glittery. Like you might seduce someone but also stab them in the neck.”

  Clo scoffed. “Okay, that’s pretty accurate.”

  Rhea lay a fingertip against her bottom lip. “The dress is bewitching, I know, but I’m glad I don’t have to wear it.” Her lips twisted, wryly. “I wasn’t allowed to choose what to wear for the Legate. Sheer isn’t really my color.”

  Clo went very pink.

  Eris didn’t bother hiding her amusement.

  Clo went even pinker.

  “Is that my shirt?” Nyx squinted. “What did you do to it?”

  Eris crossed her arms. “I pinned it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to make a call.” She strode over to the communications board and keyed in a number through to the palace switchboard on Myndalia. When the deep male voice picked up, Eris transformed into Zoe. “Maximus, darling, it’s been an age!”

  Clo looked appalled.

  Eris flashed her the scythes out of view of the vid-screen—the universally rude symbol of a curved index and middle finger.

  The man’s voice went from formal to friendly. “Zoe, is that you?”

  “Of course it’s me, you handsome creature. How are you? How is the weather? Have you killed anyone recently?”

  Every question was spoken at exhausting speed, but Maximus, the royal weapons tester, only laughed. “Not nearly enough these days. Hopefully, that truce doesn’t go anywhere, or I might be out of a job.”

  Zoe’s laugh was husky. “Well, darling, that’s what I’m calling about. I saw the announcement on the vid-screen and of course I don’t have a personal opinion, you know, because I’m not terribly learned at politics, but I thought it might be important to go into negotiations with some protection for the Archon. You never can trust those dreadful Evoli, am I right?”

  Maximus made a sound of agreement. “That’s what I always say. What do you have for me?”

  “A beautiful weapon, you gorgeous man. My very best. But I need to show it to the general directly. I know that’s not the normal protocol but, well . . .” She paused for dramatic effect. “It’s to do with Project Harpy.”

  The man sucked in a breath. “How did you—”

  “Never you mind, Maximus. You know I have my secrets.” She tapped the side of her nose. “Put in a good word for me, then, won’t you? You’d be the one to let the general know I’ve solved his problem. That might work out well for you.”

  Maximus was quiet on the other end. She could almost hear him thinking it through, weighing up the glory with the risk of death. “All right. I’ll see what I can do. Give me a moment.”

  Maximus’s line went out with a small beep, and Eris held her breath. Off-screen, Ariadne bit her knuckles, and the others were pale with nerves.

  A few minutes later, the weapons tester spoke again. “General Damocles said he will speak with you during the palace ball tomorrow evening. I’ve put your invitation through to the Oracle.” He gave them the code to pass through the gates and bypass the main security queue.

  “You’re a star, Maximus!” She made a kissing sound.

  When the transmission ended, Eris dropped into a chair and put her head in her hands. “Kill me.”

  “Was the real Zoe like that?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “Watching you be her is hilarious,” Clo said. “I mean, this is probably going to get us killed, but I’m enjoying the flark out of it anyway.”

  “Shut up, Clo.”

  With a lopsided smirk, Clo angled the ship and began their descent. Many merchants used retrofitted Empire ships, sold off once the Empire no longer required them. Luckily, Zelus was a slightly older model—the entire fleet hadn’t yet been replaced by new technology, so the ship wouldn’t be too suspect. Ariadne sent out drones to paint over Zelus’s name and temporarily change it to Euphemia before entering the Three Sisters’ checkpoint. Eris went up to the observation deck and paced, agitated.

  Could she face her brother?

  Would he see right through her?

  “Eris?” Rhea’s gentle voice came from the doorway. “Clo says to come. We’ve been given permission to enter the Three Sisters quadrant.”

  Had she been gone that long? It had only felt like minutes. “Good. I’ll be there in a moment.”

  At the other woman’s disappearing footfalls, Eris dropped her hand and stared out at the stars.

  “Queen kills King,” she whispered.

  * * *

  —

  Zelus crossed into the Three Sisters territory.

  Tholos, Agora, and Macella were three habitable planets in the same system that comprised the first Tholosian colonies. They remained the most populous parts of the Empire, the seat of its power. On their path to Macella, Zelus passed Mylos, the largest of the moons that orbited the Three Sisters. One half of its surface was a prison, packed with criminals awaiting their fates who could only look out their portholes down onto the world below. Once their cases were reviewed and their next planetary destination decided, they would be turned into gerulae. People whose entire existence was erased from their memory until they were reprogrammed to question nothing, choose nothing, and be nothing.

  Eris wondered how many people in there were imprisoned for daring to run from the Empire. That would be the fate of the women on this ship if they were ever caught—that is, if they weren’t executed outright.

  Ariadne had fitted them all with metal shifters, stamped to the roof of their mouths. The clothes were raided from the ship’s stores. Shifting clothes was only to be done in an emergency. The
energy output would potentially be too noticeable.

  Eris gave the other women a once-over. Part of the soldiers’ training was to notice inconsistencies in people’s clothes, behavior, accents, and demeanor. The smallest details could expose them.

  Ariadne and Rhea were wearing smart, dark blue sheath dresses to fit their roles as an accountant and a personal assistant. Rhea would be staying behind on the ship, called out only if needed.

  Eris had noticed Rhea’s relief when she’d asked the other woman to remain aboard. It would be difficult to mask Rhea’s behavior from the Oracle. Ariadne was able to make their Pathos implants look like Oracle chips on the scan, but though Rhea might have changed her appearance, her graceful way of moving could never be concealed. She practically floated. It was too risky.

  Nyx and Clo were decked out in dark bodyguard uniforms and looked equally pissed off about it.

  By now, there would be projections of their images on every planet in the Empire, and the Oracle would be working to find them. Ariadne had finished programming their new features that morning. The effect from the shifters had to be enough to fool the scans but not so extreme that it roused suspicion.

  Nyx’s face was softer, more delicate. Her lips were fuller, her cheekbones more prominent, and her jaw more rounded. Ariadne, by contrast, had puffed up her own features. Clo kept her hair the same but widened her nose and thinned her lips.

  Zelus was hailed through the shield around Macella by one of the satellite security points.

  “Here we go,” Clo said with a long exhale. “Say a prayer and hope we make it out alive, bermholes.”

  They set down in the landing zone outside of the palace. As Zelus settled on the platform, they all gathered to look out the window. The Macellan palace towered above them, a goliath peppered with the bones of the Olos. Eris had seen renderings of the reptilian creatures, and she had thought their multicolored scales were beautiful.

  Those scales had been used to make palace arches that glistened in the Macellan sun. They framed a manufactured lake with robotic birds.