Chuckling, Vixen shook her head. “And they say you aren’t human.” She locked eyes with Anita. “That was Wol’Van. He was my weapons mentor.” She placed a hand on her hip and looked down at the girl. “Where’s Haiken?”
“They all got called away.” Anita swirled her chair around to face the screens and motioned to a specific one—a healer’s ward setting, it appeared, with several computer monitors around the room. Haiken sat on a long chair and a female doctor—or scientist, Vixen wasn’t sure—approached him. At her gesture, he removed his helmet, and she took it from him and connected it to a computer.
“What are they doing?”
“Mandatory maintenance update. When we put our helmets on, it’s like a computer right in front of our eyes. It gives us readings of various things such as temperature, the location of other Guardians and their identification number, layouts of buildings, and other important data.” Anita nodded toward the screen. “We’ve been informed that there is a virus capable of knocking our readings offline, and they’re simply upgrading our armor with new firewalls.”
Vixen frowned then furrowed her brows. “Are you sure?” She glanced at Anita.
Anita nodded but then saw how disturbed Vixen looked, so she straightened in her chair. “What is wrong?”
Before Vixen could answer, the door slid open, and Jarovit marched in, carrying extra armor and weaponry slung over his shoulder. “We’re being deployed to Cuskelom.” Slamming the armor down onto the table, he began sorting through it but noticed the women’s stares. He shrugged then sent Anita a hard look. “Didn’t you get the memo?”
Anita shook her head and gestured to the ceiling. “Too far down to receive transmission.”
Jarovit grunted but focused on organizing the new weaponry. “You should get that fixed. They’ll start suspecting somethin’ if they can never reach you to relay messages.”
“What is this about attacking Cuskelom?” Vixen folded her arms as she watched the weapons Guardian.
“With all due respect, Ma’am,” Jarovit set down ammo and braced his hands on the table as he stared across the room at Vixen. “They’ve already attacked Cuskelom. We’re just needed as an extra force. We are their secret weapon and their greatest force.”
“But...” Anita shifted her gaze from Jarovit to Vixen then back at her fellow Guardian. “Why now? That doesn’t make sense. The Guardian Games start in a week, and they would never forgo a game just for the sake of war. They would rather no one in Jechorm even know we’re at war with Cuskelom. If they fail to host a game, that would only bring the war to everyone’s attention.”
“Oh the Games are going to be hosted—just in a different arena.” Jarovit shook his head then went back to organizing the weapons.
Anita glared at Jarovit, but he wasn’t looking at her. With a sigh, she cast Vixen a look, but Vixen was watching Jarovit—and thinking.
What Ceras and the others had said was true, Vixen realized, and a sinking feeling hit her stomach. She drew in an uneasy breath but then nodded and met Anita’s gaze. “All Guardians—and Hunters—will be allowed to kill the rebels on the field of battle. It will be recorded as if it were a grand scale event. It will be broadcasted throughout all of Jechorm. We’re in the middle of a war, but the people here will simply think it’s entertainment.” Disgusted, Vixen crossed her arms and scowled.
Jarovit slowed to a stop then lifted his gaze at the assassin. “How do you know this? We just received the order—”
“That’s not important, Jar,” Anita cut him off and scooted to the edge of her chair then leaned forward, clamping her hands together. “What’s important is—how are we supposed to differentiate between the regular Guardians and a rebel?”
Putting down a rifle, Jarovit gave her a blank stare. “I assume you haven’t been outside of this room since the doc gave you the update for your armor.” At Anita’s nonchalant shrug, Jarovit shrugged and resumed cleaning the gun. “If you had, you probably would have noticed a slight difference in the identification code when you encounter another Guardian. Now along with the usual code, a color has been added—green for all regular Guardians, and red for suspected or confirmed rebels. At least that is my suspicion after observing it on my way here.”
Anita’s jaw slacked, but then she shut her mouth, snatched her helmet from off the desk and slipped it on. Looking at Jarovit, she saw a red haze around him as well as the usual numerous readings of his physical condition. She placed a hand on her hip. “Great—just great, but how did they know we were rebels? We kept a low profile!” She yanked off the helmet and set it on her lap, staring at the reflective visor.
“What’s important is not how they found out, but what we’re going to do about it.”
Haiken walked in just in time to catch the last part of Vixen’s statement, and he nodded at her. “Exactly.” He pulled off his helmet and tucked it under his arm as he looked between Anita and Jarovit. “Unlike previous Games where they forced rebels to fight against each other, this is different. This time it is all Guardians against the rebels.”
“Meaning the rebels can band together.” Vixen nodded, catching his line of thought. “But you have to take into consideration the Hunters as well. They’ll be in this fight hunting the rebels as well.”
Anita shifted in her chair. “But how will they identify us?”
Jarovit glanced her way. “The same way we’ll identify each other, I suppose.”
Nodding, Haiken set his gaze on Vixen. “Have you gotten the summons?’
“Not yet.” Vixen shook her head. “But then again, I haven’t been available to receive anything. I should head above ground and see what I can find. I’ll report back to you once I learn something of value.” She headed for the door.
“Don’t forget a comm!” Anita snatched one off the desk and held it out for Vixen.
Vixen hesitated. She looked at the small ear device then at Haiken. “If they are going to give me some kind of technology to identify the difference between Guardians, I probably shouldn’t wear that earpiece. If they find it...”
“They’ll become suspicious.” Haiken nodded and motioned for Anita to stand down. He looked at Vixen. “Be careful.”
She smiled at him. “Always, and besides,” she nodded at the monitors, “You’re watching everything anyway.”
Haiken grunted but said nothing—simply stepped aside to let her pass.
Once she was gone, he fixed his gaze on Anita. “Pull up Cuskelom. We should start strategizing now.”
18
No sooner did Vixen reach the surface the handheld device, which Anita had given her when she first joined their ranks, pinged. Looking at it, she found a text telling her to go to a specific location for an upgrade in armory. “If I hadn’t known better, I would never suspect a thing.” Musing about this, she pocketed the device and followed the directions several floors up.
As soon as the lift doors opened, Vixen found herself staring at a mass of armed individuals. Each one with sharp eyes, aware of every movement in the room, every word exchanged, every look cast.
“Great,” Vixen frowned as she pressed through the crowd. This was the last place she wanted to be. “The Hunters. All here at one time. It’s a wonder a massacre hasn’t begun.” At last, she came to a slight clearing and found several crates near the wall. Setting her foot on one, she pulled herself up and looked over everyone’s heads.
Hundreds of assassins, bounty hunters, and thieves stood around—each one displeased with their current environment and those around them. The front of the room was lined with rows and rows of tables with holographic screens where multiple scientists went over equations and fixed formulas.
Figuring they were perfecting whatever piece of technology they planned to give the Hunters to aid in hunting the rebels, Vixen shifted her gaze back to the crowd to try and pick out any familiar faces. She saw Wol’Van, Ceras, Ardenn, Mel’Nath, noted Calder’s location and Flynn’s frown. She found Drathan—his eyes fixed o
n someone across the room. Following his gaze, she located Kilroth, who was near Aden, Lyston, and Tobias. The latter three glowered at a single individual, and Vixen looked at the man.
Her breath caught in her chest when she recognized Lorrek. For a moment he looked like Loroth, carrying the same silent weight on his shoulders without complaint. She recalled what Ceras and the others said about him, but it didn’t make sense. Lorrek was her friend—family in a sense. He trusted her when he didn’t even trust Theran. The last time she saw him, he had given her the dagger she hid on her body, and he told her, “It’s the only weapon that can kill me.” Why would Lorrek give her that weapon and then seek to kill her? It didn’t make sense. She wanted answers.
She jumped down from the crate and headed toward him, but a hand gripped her arm.
“Don’t.”
Forcing herself not to react to the grip, Vixen exhaled slowly and turned around. Her gaze settled on a man she hadn’t seen in years, and a small smile—that made Vixen feel like a child again—found its way on her face. “Papa.”
“Shh.” Sirros jutted his chin toward those around them. Too many enemies in the same room, too many people with a grudge. If anyone realized they were related, they could use them against each other. He nodded to the door and led her out.
Vixen looked over her shoulder back at Lorrek. She didn’t want to lose sight of him and miss her chance to talk to him, but she knew she should accompany her father and find out what he knew, so she followed him out of the room into the corridor.
Once they were outside the room, Vixen crossed her arms. “Where’s Mother? What are you doing here?”
“What? No hug—no exclamation of how much you missed me?” Sirros raised his brows. “Is that a way to greet your dear old father?” A smile teased at his lips, but Vixen gave him a look.
“Papa, you’d be the first one to claim you are not old. Why should I insult you with a hug and risk personal harm?” Vixen cocked her head to the side.
He smirked then conceded with a bow of his head. With a sweeping motion to the room, he answered her original question. “Your mother is still in there.” Sirros gestured to the room. “We saw you when you got on that crate—everyone saw you. It’s a good thing Lorrek doesn’t recognize you and wasn’t close enough for your presence to register.”
“About that...” She straightened “Why doesn’t he recognize me? I married his cousin. We worked together, and he even brought Loroth and me here in the first place ten years ago. Lorrek should know me.”
Sirros shook his head. “I don’t know, but when I had the opportunity, I touched his mind. Of course, he reacted fiercely to it and shoved me out of the magic realm, but...” He raised his shoulders in a casual shrug and flashed his daughter a grin. “He probably has a pounding headache right now from the blast I gave him on the way out.”
Vixen pushed away from the wall and gave her father a hard look. “Papa, he’s a friend!” She gestured back to the room, indicating Lorrek, but Sirros only lifted his brows, unimpressed.
“Friends don’t try to kill each other.”
“Oh really?” She approached him with firm steps. “You are going to stake that claim? Have you noticed that Calder is in there?”
“And if you haven’t noticed, we haven’t killed each other...” Sirros stood his ground as she drew close—her glare never lessening.
“Yet.” Vixen jutted her chin up at him—her arms crossed. “I know you better than that, Papa. I know Calder better than that. And the feud between the two of you will never be resolved without spilled blood.”
Exhaling but refusing to sigh, Sirros stepped around Vixen and moved away from her but then turned back to her. With a flat smile, he spread out his hands. “What happened to my little girl—the one who liked to run around with knives?”
“Oh, your little girl is still here, but she wears knives now.” She motioned to her bladed vest.
Sirros took in the armored article of clothing and arched his brows. “Nice vest.” Then he locked eyes with her. His eyes narrowed. “When did you become such a diplomat?”
She shrugged—her arms still folded over her chest. “Since I married the cousin of a prince.”
Sirros snapped his fingers as if remembering that detail, and he walked around her. “You know, he never quite asked for my permission. That is something I wish to discuss with him next time I see him.”
“If you mean discuss as in ‘kill’, you’re too late.” Vixen set her glare upon him. “He’s dead.”
He hesitated then bowed his head. “My condolences.”
Determined not to dwell on the past, Vixen drew in a deep breath and pulled her shoulders back. “I want you to mask my presence.”
He gave her a double take then glared at her. “What? Why?” When he realized her reason for making the request, he began shaking his head. “No—no! I am not going to allow you to get yourself killed!”
“I know you’re not, and I’m counting on that.” With a smile, Vixen headed for the room again, ignoring all her father’s attempts to stop her.
“Vi...” He began to call after her but stopped just in case Lorrek had enhanced his hearing. He didn’t want the other sorcerer to be aware of her close proximity. Sighing, he cast his magic over his daughter, dampening her signature so no magic user would recognize her, and then he reached out to his wife, “Vix is here—heading for Lorrek now.”
Surprise laced with fear flared back through the bond. “Is she mad?!”
He saw movement in the crowd and realized Nyvera was cutting across the room to reach Vixen before she reached Lorrek. Calculating the rate at which Vixen was traveling toward Lorrek compared to Nyvera’s speed, as well as the distance between Vixen and Lorrek compared to the distance between Nyvera and Vixen, Sirros stood in the back of the room, leaned against the wall, and crossed his arms to watch. “Well, considering she is the daughter of you and I both, it should be expected that she’s a bit cuckoo in the brains.”
Nyvera’s anger lashed out at him, but she kept moving to reach Vixen. “After all this is settled…”
“We’ll spar it out, I know.” Sirros nodded although she couldn’t see him. “Just remember, don’t say Vixen’s name. He doesn’t know what she looks like, and I am masking her signature right now.”
“This is insane.” Almost there.
“Agreed.”
Nyvera reached Vixen just as she came to stand beside Lorrek.
Lorrek looked down when the women reached his side. The one closest to him—unfamiliar—didn’t spare him a glance but rather stared ahead at the tables where the scientists worked, organizing different equipment. Her eyes narrowed, but otherwise she made no expression or move. He noted her vest of blades and labeled her as an assassin Hunter.
Beside her, he saw how Nyvera appeared anxious, glaring at the woman and then up at him before she finally crossed her arms and set her gaze ahead to watch the scientists put the finishing touches on the technology.
A ball of nervousness knotted in Vixen’s chest as she stood this close to Lorrek. She wanted to slap him for being responsible for Loroth’s death, wanted to hug him because he was really alive and she hadn’t been seeing an apparition in the woods all this time. She wanted to take him by the hand and teleport him back to Cuskelom to prove to Honroth that his youngest brother was still alive.
Instead, she stood still—cold and emotionless. The calculated killer she had once been.
For a long time, she did not move or look in Lorrek’s or her mother’s direction, but rather she watched as the scientists began calling the Hunters forward, three by three to fit them with new technology that would allow them to identify the rebel Guardians from the regular ones.
“Do they really think we care whether or not we kill rebel or regular Guardians?” She asked aloud, gaining Lorrek’s attention. Feeling his gaze on her, she glanced at him then look back at the tables as the line of Hunters inched forward. “I—for one—look forward to deactivatin
g as many Guardians as possible.” Though this was not true, she wanted to test Lorrek’s motives.
He made no sound as he fell into step behind her, and Vixen sensed her mother—who was behind Lorrek—stiffen with anxiety. Vixen realized it was the perfect opportunity for Lorrek to backstab her, but she refused to show any apprehension. The more confident she felt and appeared, the less likely Lorrek would be to suspect that his target was right in front of him.
“I care not for any Guardians, though I will kill any who get in my way.” Lorrek’s low voice sounded behind her, and it took all her willpower not to stiffen. “I seek one individual.”
She arched a cocky brow as she looked over her shoulder. “Oh really? Who’s the target?” He only stared down at her. Frowning, she nodded and looked ahead. It was almost her turn at the table. “Right,” she muttered under her breath. “Never reveal your target—true assassin code.”
She was called to the table. Relieved to leave Lorrek behind for the moment, she hastened to the opened spot. “Name?” The man with a tablet inquired, and Vixen hesitated with a quick glance over her shoulder only to see Lorrek go to the other end of the table. If she identified herself too loudly, he would hear, and in this room full of killers all they needed was one mishap to unleash chaos.
With a shaky smile, she leaned in. “Sorry, sir, I have a lot of enemies in this room, and I’d rather they not realize who I am.” When he nodded his understanding and leaned closer, she whispered in his ear, “Vixen—that’s my name.”
Pulling back, he glanced around to make sure no one had heard and then very discreetly typed in Vixen’s name. Once he finished, he gestured for his assistant to step forward, and the woman approached with a small tray of water. With her gloved hand, she reached into the water with her fingertip, and when she withdrew her hand, Vixen noticed the tiny lens on the tip of her finger.
The assistant offered the lens to Vixen. “Put it in your eye.” Once Vixen took the one lens from her, the woman reached into the water and retrieved the other then offered it to her as well.
The Chronicles of Lorrek Box Set Page 57