Shadow of the Colossus

by Nicole Grotepas

  “Fine,” she said, trying to not pout. “So, just before you showed up, I was thinking about your military career. When will you tell me the sort of things you saw out there?”

  “Who gave you that drink?” Grant asked, suddenly zeroing in on her glass of champagne.

  “Torden, don’t worry. I haven’t let it out of my sight.”

  He studied her face, a smile dancing at the edges of his lips. “Brilliant.”

  “There’s something you should know, Iain,” Holly said, feeling something withering in her chest. She made sure her mic was muted and asked Grant to make sure his was also muted. He pulled the communicator from his pocket and showed her that it was.

  “What is it?” he returned his gaze to hers from scanning the growing crowd of revelers.

  “Odeon is like the brother I never had. He’s loyal. He’s kind. I admire him, and find him adorable in many ways. He always has my back,” Holly explained.

  “Except, kind of that once,” Grant pointed out, clearly irritated about that. Which surprised her.

  “That was my fault. I can’t blame someone else when I neglect to be aware of the danger or fail to take care of myself,” Holly said, with a soft laugh.

  Grant’s eyes began to glimmer like he knew where she was going with her lengthy explanation.

  “What is it, Holly?” he asked again.

  “I don’t love being coddled. His concern for my safety sometimes begins to feel—how do I say this without sounding like a royal bitch? Hmm. Sometimes it suffocates me. But I know it comes from a good place within him.”

  “And you don’t want me to—?”

  “Treat me the way Odeon does.”

  “Yes, I can see that.”

  “I can take care of myself. I have. I did before you or Odeon or Shiro appeared in my life. I mean,” she shrugged one shoulder, “I ended up in prison, wrongfully, yes, so I’m not completely perfect at it. But I’ve done a decent job of it, to say the least.”

  “I have noticed that about you. You’re strong. You don’t back away from hard things. You would have made a good soldier.”

  “Thank you,” she said, considering it a high compliment coming from Iain. “You’re here tonight, partially to make Odeon feel OK about leaving me behind. You know how it is to try to make a team happy. But, now that we’re here, well,” she hesitated, nearly saying that they should act like a couple. As part of their cover, of course.

  “Let’s have a good time?” he said, standing up and moving in front of her.

  “That. Yes,” she shrugged, and smiled. “I’d call it fun, but yes, same idea.” She took his proffered hand.

  “Fun, yes. It’s not a word I use often,” he admitted, leading her out into the crowd, weaving through the tall cocktail tables and low couches surrounding knee-high, parabola-shaped coffee tables. The live band continued to play music, not too loud though, a sensible, respectable volume—the elite of the City of Jade Spires had reputations to consider. Raves weren’t the going social currency. Rather, music just below a threshold that still allowed conversations to continue and which was possible to dance slowly to, should it move them into motion. Grant stopped just where the crowd was swaying together on the floor, paired off in couples as the Yasoan band on stage strummed and plucked their instruments to the crooning of a male singer.

  “We don’t have to dance,” Holly said, suddenly realizing that perhaps that was his intention.

  “Why not?” Grant asked. “You don’t like to dance?”

  “That’s not it,” Holly said. She was suddenly concerned with where Charly was. Was their mark in the club yet? She didn’t want to fall prey too much to the Siren song or the enchantment of Grant dressed up and the possibility of dancing with him.

  “I dance. Military functions included parties not too different from this one.”

  “Grant, will you dance with me?” Holly said, seeing that their mark was on the dance floor and realizing that balking at it could be seen a confession that she wasn’t confident on the dance floor.

  He blinked, then grinned. “Oh now you think that I want to dance?”

  “Don’t you?”

  He hesitated. “I know you don’t want me to coddle you or worry. But I do want to be alert. Not worried, no, but I am torn between being alert, and letting go and having a good time.”

  “Is there anywhere safer here, tonight, than in your arms?”

  A flash of something rippled through his eyes. Holly saw it, and she felt perhaps the same thing explode in her heart.

  On the dance floor, on the dance floor! “On the dance floor, that is.”

  “Of course. No, you’re right. Let’s do it.” He turned to her and took her hand in his, sliding the other hand along her waist. He led her in the steps and she was surprised to sense that he did know how to dance, how to move with the rhythm the musicians guided the crowd with. His extended hand swallowed hers and with the position of his other hand on the small of her back, he guided her using gentle pressure from his fingers. Her skin burned where he touched her. Music and her pulse roared in her ears. She’d been close to him before—slept next to him in a bed, stood next to him as he demonstrated his antique prized possessions to her, rescued hundreds of kids with the aid of his expertise, counted inventory with him, guided a zeppelin back on course next to him, for the love of Ixion fought beside him.

  And this was just another thing like all that. Wasn’t it?

  No. This is so much more. She wanted much more with him. Much, much more. She wanted to see the edge of the heliopause with him. To hear about his exploits out on the frontier of the Yol system. Maybe see a non-humanoid sentient species with him.

  Oh my god.

  She wanted him so badly.

  “Hey kids,” Charly said, smiling, suddenly beside them.

  Holly jumped slightly. She’d been staring into Grant’s eyes, unaware of the entire room around her. If Charly hadn’t disrupted the moment, Holly might have tried to kiss him. His eyes were a drug.

  Charly laughed and took Holly’s hand in one hand and Grant’s in the other. “We got stuff happening. You’re needed. Turn your mics on. You got work to do.”

  * * *

  “Ume Kauss. Art collector. Thief—though he justifies it with his rich privilege. Claims that the statue was stolen from another Centau, and therefore hiring out to get someone else to steal it for him is fair,” Charly said to Holly and Grant at the bar. She drank sparkling water, knowing that she wanted there wits about her. When Torden asked Holly if she wanted another champagne, she asked for sparkling water as well. Charly took a long sip of her water. “That’s why we’re getting it back.”

  “Is that really what happened?” Grant asked, watching Ume laughing and drinking at a cocktail table. His face was light brown, with high cheekbones and pale eyes, while his hair was a light stubble. His dark violet robes were accentuated by several gold sashes. In short, he oozed wealth.

  Holly looked at Charly. “Sort of,” Holly answered.

  “You know that’s how the Centau do everything, right? That’s how all moral codes work. People bend them to fit their urges and needs, while demanding high standards from everyone else.” Charly looked at Grant. “Yes, this statue is currently making the rounds. It was in our client’s possession two owners prior. It’s almost a mark of respectability to have had it in your collection for a minute. But these Centau don’t think museums are necessary or that those beneath them can appreciate the grandeur of such a noble statue.”

  As they watched the crowd from the bar, Holly caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd. Dave. Human. Wearing a jacket over his typical suspenders. He caught her eye and raised his glass to her as though he was saying cheers. Charly caught it. “You know Idris Caron, Holly?”

  Holly nearly choked on her sparkling water. “No, never seen him before.”

  Charly looked at her friend. “He thinks he knows you. He’s like the highest ranking human in the Centau government. I always w
onder how the hell he pulled that off. But when I ask him, he just chuckles and blushes. It’s so annoying.”

  “He looks nice enough,” Holly said, inserting an appropriate amount of innocent inflection into her words. “But I can’t say I’ve ever met him.”

  “Maybe he’s into you.”

  Iain watched both Holly and Charly, clearly curious about their interchange.

  Shiro came in over the comm. “We’re about to move up to the floors of the mark’s rooms, if all is well there. Do I have your go ahead, Holly?”

  “Yes. We have the mark in our view. If the other things are taken care of, then you have the go ahead,” Holly answered.

  “I’m confident I can get through the locks quickly. Darius has the camera feeds ready to hijack. Shiro is responsible for the security around the pedestal. And we have the replica to replace it.”

  “Brilliant, keep us apprised,” Holly said, suddenly feeling tense for the work that Shiro and Odeon were about to embark on.

  “Now, we take turns keeping an eye on Ume,” Charly said. “I’ll take this shift, Holly. You and Grant mingle. Don’t hang out here at the bar, it looks unnatural. Go back out on the floor, dance, sit, say hello to people you know.”

  “I’ve looked, I know no one except you, Grant, and Torden.”

  “Then go sit by someone and introduce yourselves like you’re hobnobbing in an attempt to get rank of some kind.” Charly said.

  Grant took Holly’s hand and asked her to accompany him. “I know how to hobnob, Holly. I did it in the military.”

  “Keep your mic on, Charly, and keep listening,” Holly said as she followed Iain.

  They went out onto the floor and sat at a bench chair around a coffee table. Her conversation with Grant would be heard by everyone, so Holly wasn’t sure how to keep them both entertained with her mic on. She wondered if he was aware of that as well, and struck up a conversation with the Centau couple sitting near them. Their interactions with Holly and Grant left a lot to be desired, and the discussion petered out quickly.

  “Ume is trying to leave,” Charly soon said. “You need to run interference right now, Holly.”

  Holly rose, quickly, and moved toward the entrance doors. She checked over her shoulder to see if Grant was with her. He was following close behind her. She formulated a plan as she approached the doors. When Ume showed up in his dark purple robes, Holly tripped against him. “Oh, pardon me,” she said, knowing it was the oldest trick in the book and perhaps one of the contenders for the worst.

  “It is fine,” Ume said.

  “Oh, are you the art collector?”

  “The? Yes, I like to think that no others matter more than me,” Ume said, with a laugh.

  “I’m—“ she almost said her real name, then stumbled on a cover name. “Gina Regatta,” she said, spitting out the first name that came to her mind.

  “A pleasure, Gina Regatta,” Ume said, then introduced himself to her and then to Iain. Iain didn’t offer his hand or an introduction.

  She asked him about his opinions on modern art collecting, avoiding the question of whether or not he was leaving, believing that if he were indeed leaving, that to acknowledge it would only increase the likelihood that he was on his way out and would provide him the excuse to leave.

  As Ume began to share his thoughts on modern art, Grant involved himself in the discussion. Holly realized that Grant was perfect for it—he dealt in the tools of the trade and even made his own. As the conversation continued, Holly cautiously, slowly, moved them away from the doors and towards a cocktail table. Ume dug deeper, and Iain went with him into obscure areas. Holly watched Iain. His face was animated as he talked of his passion and Holly became absorbed in her own thoughts about him.

  The champagne she’d had earlier had hit her bladder. She excused herself from the conversation with the promise that she’d be right back. As she strolled to the restrooms, she checked in on the team.

  “Grant’s got Ume cornered. That one is always useful,” she said wryly, hoping he heard the playfulness in her town. She glanced over her shoulder and caught him smiling at her as she walked away. There was a glint of concern in his eyes, but he seemed to school himself. She was thankful he trusted her to go to the bathroom on her own, she thought sarcastically.

  “Great work, Iain,” Charly said. “How’s it going, boys? We just save your hineys from the mark showing up at home.”

  “And we shall forever be indebted to you, Charly,” Shiro said.

  “I’d say. For so many reasons including this one,” Charly said.

  Holly laughed and went into the restroom. She finished her business and stood at the counter washing her hands. In the mirror above the sink, a woman appeared behind Holly, suddenly, without warning.

  “Oh, excuse me,” Holly began. Her gaze flicked to the tattoo on the woman’s next and then everything went black.

  * * *

  Holly came to slowly. Her head throbbed. Her body was sore, everywhere, though she didn’t remember why. Had she drank too much? She could hear the sound of water rushing. Or—waves crashing on a shore. She inhaled. The air was salty.

  She opened her eyes. There was a blanket on her. Her eyes darted from coffee table to window to the rug on the floor. As she took in her surroundings, she recalled the last thing that happened—a woman clocked her in the head.

  Then why was she laying on a sofa in what appeared to be a living room? That did not connect with how she’d come to be there. She wasn’t tied up, either. Nothing made sense. The place was friendly and inviting. A fire was currently burning behind a grate in the wall. There were two other armchairs arranged around the sofa where Holly was lying. A kitchen just off the room was well appointed with appliances, included a kasé brewer and a coffee brewer. She was in someone’s home. She sat up, hearing voices approaching. She looked down at her body in dismay, noticing that she was still in the impractical dress she’d worn to the soiree.

  The voices got closer. She furrowed her brow, wondering why in the hell she’d been knocked out and brought to a fucking house. It didn’t make sense. Who would do that? If she was a threat to the Shadow Coalition—she remembered the woman’s tattoo—why didn’t they just kill her or torture her. That’s what they’d been attempting to do all this time. Why change their M.O.

  Briefly she considered hiding or pretending to be asleep, as the voices got closer, approaching from a hallway just off the room. She didn’t have any of her weapons, so she was at their mercy anyway. However, anything could be a weapon, if push came to shove. Time ran out to hide, so she sat on the couch, waiting, the blanket still covering her legs. Whoever took her obviously didn’t consider her a threat or else she’d be tied up. That was insulting enough. So, this person would see her there, sitting on the couch in an unthreatening way. She would lure them into a false sense of security, and then she’d use the lamp on the nearby endtable as a weapon, she’d get some answers first. Then make her move, and run.

  “Holly, dear, you’re awake,” a very familiar voice said.

  “Dad?”

  Her father sauntered into the room, wearing cream colored linens and a hat, looking like an ad for an expensive liquor. He sat down in an armchair. A Centau woman came into the room with him. She was tall and stately and possibly more beautiful than Trip Taurus. “It’s been ages,” her father said, smiling, his white teeth brilliant against his tanned skin. Holly hadn’t seen him in ages, it was true.

  “Yes, it has,” Holly responded, bitterly. He hadn’t come to her trial and that still bothered her. “Missed you at my trial.”

  He waved a hand, dismissing her concern, something he’d always done—correcting her about what she thought or felt. She didn’t hold him against him, adults were like that to kids, quite often. But it bothered her once she knew her own mind. He shrugged. “I’m sorry about that. But I knew you were strong. Didn’t need me there, interfering.”

  “Yes, I’m sure your interference was what you were worri
ed about. Not the publicity or how it might have reflected on you. Former cop’s daughter kills her husband.”

  “I’m glad you did it.”

  Holly blinked. “Glad I killed Grafton?”

  “I trust you, Holly. And I wanted to kill him myself, quite often. He was sleek. Charismatic. He hid a temper. And know that he took it home to you.”

  “Excuse me, who is this woman?” Holly asked, suddenly realizing they were discussing some quite personal stuff in front of a stranger. “I’m Holly. And you are?”

  “Sonal,” she answered in a deep, powerful voice.

  Holly waited for her to say something more, anything more. When she didn’t, Holly sat back. “OK, Sonal. Lovely to meet you.” She knew the Centau expected her to be satisfied with that answer, and so she pressed further, for more information. “And what do you do around here? Servant?” That would upset both Sonal and her father. She felt exactly like a petulant child.

  George simply laughed, and Sonal looked at him, a bemused expression smudging her Centau features. “She’s my second in command. And well, since your mother left, a bit more than that.”

  Holly started. The comfort of her father’s presence had caught her off guard. She’d drifted into complacency, feeling safe and secure in some remainder from her childhood, despite the fact that she’d been kidnapped and brought to his home on what she knew to be Itzcap. The crashing waves, the scent of the sea, the open windows, and the sunlight and breeze streaming in through the open windows.

  “What the fuck, dad. Why did you have me kidnapped?”

  “Oh Holly, don’t resort to black and white thinking. We both know that it doesn’t work. I spent years on the police force trying to apply it to situations that had no business having it applied to them.”

  She stood up and paced around the couch. Her feet were bare on the cold tile and she wished she wasn’t in a goddamn dress. It would make escape ridiculous, but she wouldn’t let that stop her. “I was expecting the Heart to be something unexpected. A corrupt Centau like Sonal, or a young woman my age, perhaps. But not my own fucking father.”