by Jaine Fenn
The boy regarded her like a frightened animal.
For a moment she reconsidered her decision, and almost dived into his mind to find the nature and extent of his betrayal—But no, she was tired of not trusting.
She spoke more quietly. ‘I’m not going to hurt you, Taro, but you must tell me what happened.’
He looked away, staring up at the ceiling, to where Nual had disguised the grey underside of the City in draperies. ‘Aye lady,’ he murmured, his voice hoarse. ‘Then you must decide whether or not to let me live.’
He had been a mess when they first met, confused and under the influence of some drug. His life had obviously not improved since. ‘What did you do after I left you at the end of Chance Street?’ she asked.
‘When?’ Taro asked, blinking. ‘Oh. Was it yesterday? Aye, only yesterday. I talked to the Minister. He wasn’t happy. And he—’ Taro closed his eyes. ‘I’ve done a terrible thing, lady.’
‘Tell me, what is this terrible thing you have done?’ Only the slightest effort and she could read it, this betrayal that was tearing him apart - but he was willing to tell her freely, and she would grant him that kindness.
He turned his head away. ‘He gave me orders fer a removal. To give to you.’
‘Oh.’ He was wearing only tattered, ripped breeches, and they didn’t look like they had any pockets. ‘Where are those orders now, Taro?’
He put his hands over his face and rolled onto his side, away from her. ‘I’m sorry,’ he rasped, trying to stop the tears leaking from his eyes. ‘I tried . . . I really tried. But I weren’t strong enough. He—He knows ’ow to hurt me, and not just me body. He took them.’
‘Who, Taro?’ she asked gently, ‘who took the orders?’
‘Scarrion,’ he said, shaking with fear. ‘The Screamer, he found them when ’e—Lady, I swear I tried to keep it from him, only tell ’im what I had to to make the pain stop, but . . . But it was no good. I was no good. He should’ve killed me.’ Taro pulled his knees to his chest and curled up against the wall.
Nual watched his quivering back and thought through what he had said. It would be just like the Minister to use the ultimate sanction of orders for a removal to get her attention. But who could the orders be for? The rules of the Concord wouldn’t allow another hit on Vidoran without further voting - assuming the Minister had really wanted Vidoran dead in the first place - and rumours from the Exquisite Corpse didn’t suggest any other hot-list contenders coming up for removal yet. But the Minister didn’t always play by his own rules, not with her, anyway.
And now Vidoran’s Screamer had the orders, and that was not good at all.
Almost absently, reacting to his need for comfort, she reached out to stroke Taro’s hair. His despair washed over her, momentarily eclipsing her own concerns. She leaned over and wrapped her arms round him, letting him cry, absorbing the horror and self-loathing, draining the poison. It felt good to touch someone, even someone this damaged.
He cried for a while, then uncurled slightly and muttered something she didn’t catch.
‘Taro?’
He sniffed. ‘There’s a copy,’ he whispered. ‘I’d almost forgot . . . Limnel, the boss, ’e took a copy of the ’spike. Before Scarrion came. Lady, we could get it.’
‘Where would he keep it, do you know?’
‘There’s a lock-up store, near the room where ’e took me. I’ll bet it’s in there. I can show you.’ He rolled over and tried to sit up, then groaned and fell back.
‘You aren’t going anywhere,’ she said, sternly.
‘No! I mean—Sorry, lady, but . . . I have to. Must undo what I’ve done.’
His despair had turned to hope, almost equally pitiable. She could still take the simpler option and read his mind for the location of the copy, or she could dominate him, make him her willing slave - but she rather thought she needed a friend as much as he did.
‘Taro, you’re in no state to go anywhere at the moment, and I’m afraid we do not have the time to wait for you to heal.’
‘Please! I can’t jus’ do nothin’ - it’s all my fault!’
‘From the look of you, you did everything you could to resist the Screamer. You cannot be blamed for his actions, Taro. Stay here, rest. You’ll be safe. No one will find you here. I will go for the orders.’
‘Lemme come with you. I have to.’ He needed to redeem himself. And he did not want to be parted from her. Despite her attempts to keep her distance, the link between them was already growing.
There was one way that he could go with her, though it would mean breaking the promise she had made not to use her powers. So be it: she had pretended to be human for too long, and she had spent so long hiding that she had forgotten what it was like to get close to someone. Because of that reticence, she lacked experience using her powers in this way: she could not be sure what effect such a drastic intervention might have on him, or on her. But it was what he needed, and what she wanted. The time was right.
She asked softly, ‘Do you trust me, Taro?’
‘I trust you.’
Of course he did. ‘There is a way you can come with me, but first I have to explain something, and it’s going to be hard to understand. It’s something very few people know.’
He stared up at her, eagerly, adoringly, waiting on her words. Damn him.
‘Not all aliens have wings, Taro,’ she started. ‘I am not human.’
‘Not human? But you’re—’
She tried not to pick up the end of the sentence he was too embarrassed to speak—
You’re so beautiful.
‘There are old, nasty secrets being exposed to the light here, Taro,’ she went on. ‘Do you know who the Sidhe were?’
‘I’ve ’eard topsiders mention them. Din’t they run things a long time ago?’
‘The time of the Sidhe Protectorate was a long period of stability - or, as some prefer to call it, repression - when the Sidhe ruled humanity. The Sidhe looked human, but where humans are limited to five senses, the Sidhe operated in a wider spectrum. Trying to explain what that means would be like trying to explain colour to a person who had been born blind. And while humans influence the world around them purely by their actions, the Sidhe had the power to influence reality, or rather, how sentient beings perceive reality, by thought. Legend has it their glance could bare your soul, or stop your breath, or induce total obedience. Most of them, the powerful ones, the ones anyone saw, were women. Humans used to say that to love a Sidhe woman was to doom yourself to the death of ecstasy. The men . . . well, that’s a story for another time.’ She sighed. ‘Fear of the Sidhe was one of the few things that has ever united humanity. But, like you said, all that was long ago. They’re gone now, dead these last thousand years, all that power reduced to nothing more than fairy-tales to scare children. Everyone knows that.’
‘Except they ain’t,’ said Taro carefully.
This boy was not the idiot he liked others to think he was.
She nodded slowly. ‘The Sidhe always were a minority. They ruled partly by controlling humanity’s access to technology and partly by using awe, adoration and illusion, making themselves into goddesses who were willingly worshipped. When they were - apparently - destroyed, the survivors went into hiding. They encouraged the belief that they had been defeated utterly and were gone forever, which wasn’t so hard to do, given how humans always like to believe tales of their own superiority. The only way such a small group could exert any control is by remaining hidden, and by making the possibility that they might still exist ridiculous. And by being united. Just one renegade, one rogue with Sidhe powers and no loyalty to the Sidhe agenda, could threaten their secret hold on humanity.’
‘Oh,’ whispered Taro. ‘And that’d be you, then?’
Nual smiled at his expression. He looked understandably shocked, but not afraid. Not appalled. There was none of the hatred she picked up from other humans at the mere mention of the Sidhe. Then again, most humans didn’t spend their liv
es struggling to survive in squalid surroundings beneath a floating city.
‘I am telling you this because there is a way you could come with me to get the chip back. I could help you. But it would mean using my—my talents on you. I want you to understand what that means. For the past seven years I have been in hiding, making myself blind, not using my abilities, all so I could survive amongst humans, so I could fit in. But I am still Sidhe. If I try to heal you I will be invading your mind, reaching into you. It may change you. It will certainly change . . . us.’
‘It’s all right. I ain’t frightened,’ he said, straightening his narrow shoulders with a grimace of pain.
No, thought Nual, you aren’t. Brave, foolish boy. ‘All right. Try to relax. I’ll do everything else.’
Taro obeyed. Nual knelt beside him and placed her hand on his forehead.
She went in slowly, letting the images and sensations uppermost in his mind wash over her on the way through his consciousness: the blond man smiles as he draws the knife - the boy with the crooked nose and the sharp suit holds out a spoon of golden powder - the Minister hands over the dataspike, his face grave - herself, sitting across the table in the Exquisite Corpse - in a dark room smelling of sex, the battered, naked girl lies curled up on a filthy mattress - the Angel, dark-haired and wide-eyed, jerks backwards as the bolt blows half her head away—
Names and associations adhered to the images. Nual absorbed Taro’s recent experiences, allowing them to seep into her memory. She braced herself to accept all the emotions that accompanied them: fear; shame; terror; confusion. Powerlessness. Hopelessness. She felt a growing admiration for the boy’s determination to survive, and to do what he felt was right. She would do what she could to help him.
She had no direct control over the physical, but fortunately, the addiction was mostly psychological and she could excise the need, the insistent demand for more. The physical symptoms of withdrawal she could only reduce, not remove, but she could and did encourage his body’s natural healing processes, and she infused him with energy drawn from the lives that - now her shields were down - she could feel seething all around her. And she dulled the physical pain, just enough to let him function. She could have easily dulled his mental anguish too - he might take it as a mercy, to lose the memories that haunted him—
No! His mind must remain his own.
But she let her consciousness drift like a ghost through the core of his being for a little longer, taking the time to enjoy being in another’s mind.
Finally she opened her eyes.
His eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and even. For the first time since she had met him, his face was serene. Beneath the bruises, it was beautiful.
Apparently the effect was not entirely one way. She stood, her legs shaky, her pulse racing.
It was full daylight by now, and as Taro rested and healed she moved carefully around the room, blowing out candles. She fetched her gun, took it from its case, assembled it swiftly and slung it over her shoulder. She was lifting her cloak from its peg, her back to Taro, when she felt him wake.
She turned, smiling, and when despite herself she met his eyes, she felt their thoughts begin to mesh together. He gasped and she looked away. Resisting the temptation to dispense with words altogether, she forced herself to speak out loud. ‘Can you stand?’
He nodded and swung his legs gingerly onto the floor.
She walked over to him, aware of the delicious tension of their new bond. ‘I’m going to put this on you; when I wear it with my gun it tends to catch, and carrying you as well . . .’ She let her voice trail away as she reached up and fastened her cloak round his neck.
He closed his eyes.
She knew how her touch was singing through him; she felt it too, the joy of his presence. After years of solitude her mind yearned for this closeness. She had given in to her desire, telling herself she had to, to help an innocent. It felt so good . . . too good. The line between love and annihilation was so very thin.
She stepped back and he opened his eyes. He looked at the gun on her shoulder. ‘You think we’ll need that?’ he murmured, his voice heavy and sensual, as though he were asking another, altogether more intimate question.
She avoided his eyes. ‘The dataspike will have the Minister’s preferred time and place for the removal. We may not have the chance to come back here for the gun.’
‘What’s it feel like?’
She didn’t need to ask him what he meant; he had never killed, though he had lived a step away from death all his life. ‘The act of taking a life is a wonderful, terrible privilege. For me, it is far more than you could imagine, for when someone is about to die, I no longer have to hide from them. I am open to them, and they to me, if only for an instant. The shields are gone, the glamour is blown away, and in that moment I am complete. Killing is . . . addictive.’ She laughed wryly at the reactions she was picking up from him. ‘Aye, that is appalling, is it not? I told you I was a monster.’ She kicked the door open.
He turned to stand beside her. Though they were barely touching, she could feel his heat. ‘You said humans thought the Sidhe are monsters. That ain’t the same thing.’
‘Contempt for humanity is bred into the Sidhe; for their part, almost every human I have ever met would wish me dead if they knew the truth,’ said Nual, somewhat bitterly. ‘So why shouldn’t I take their lives when they would happily take mine?’ But she was not like her sisters. She had been born different, and she had made choices that would alienate her from them forever.
‘Don’t try to make me hate you. You know I can’t,’ he murmured.
She nodded. ‘Just try not to love me, either. We can’t afford to get lost in each other. Not now, perhaps not ever.’
She put an arm round his waist. Though she held him outside the cloak, not wanting to risk flesh on flesh, she still felt that spark of unity when they touched. Before they could give in to the mutual desire that sizzled between them, she stepped forward and they fell together into morning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
‘Hello? Who is this? Your com appears to be faulty, there’s no image.’
‘Sirrah Meraint.’
‘Ah. You. How did you get this number?’
‘I believe I told you, I do my research. I did call your office first, but you weren’t there.’
‘It’s my day off.’
‘How nice. Spending time with your lovely daughters, no doubt. Were you planning to take them anywhere, or are you just having a quiet day at home?’
‘I—That’s none of your business. What do you want?’
‘I have a job for you.’
‘I’ve told you, if and when Medame Reen contacts me again—’
‘Not that. This is something different. I believe you have access to sophisticated decryption routines and the expertise to use them.’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘I have some encrypted data that I wish you to apply your skills to. As an added incentive I will even offer payment for this service.’
‘Just knowing you would leave me alone would be payment enough, Screamer.’
‘Oh, I think our association might be at an end soon enough. This job is extremely urgent, otherwise I would never be so rude as to interrupt your day off. I am hoping for results by this afternoon. ’
‘This afternoon? I can try - but I don’t even have the data. Can you transmit a file?’
‘I don’t think that would be wise. I’ll bring the chip to your office in half an hour. Unless you’d prefer I deliver it to your home?’
‘I’ll be there.’
Taro rested his head on Nual’s shoulder and thought of nothing.
Everything was so simple; as long as he was close to her, the other stuff, the bad stuff, none of it mattered. Right now he was content, cradled in her arms while she flew beneath the world.
‘Taro.’
He liked the way her whisper disturbed his hair, the sense of his name forming in her mind befor
e the sound escaped her lips.
‘Taro!’ she whispered more urgently, ‘you must not let yourself get too close. You must resist the temptation.’
He sighed. If only she’d let him complete their union, let it become physical as well as mental, then everything would be perfect, but instead she was forcing him away, keeping her distance - and he didn’t know why, when she obviously wanted him as much as he wanted her.
‘I warned you this could happen.’ He felt her shiver. ‘Physical proximity will make it worse.’
‘Wouldn’t call this worse,’ he grinned.