by Lee Winter
Lena’s heart dropped to her stomach. Shit. That made sense.
“So I ask again,” Nyah said, gaze steely, “who are you? Really?”
“A writer,” Lena said firmly, and shot Nyah her most convincing look. “And if you’d actually let me get to the end of the interview, I would have asked you for spellings, specifics, the whole bit. Why would all writers do their jobs the same way?”
Nyah studied her so carefully that Lena wondered if she might have actually won a round.
Finally, the guardian answered. “No, you don’t write, you manipulate people, and with a great deal of skill. Although I don’t think you were lying about disliking school, were you? You have charm enough to cover the cracks, but your speech patterns give you away. Did you even pass English? Or did you learn it all on the street?”
Shock stabbed Lena at the not-entirely-crazy guess. Her notepad was suddenly snatched from her side before she could protest. Nyah flipped through the pages and Lena glowered at her. Lena’s palms immediately slicked with sweat, and she felt the pit of her stomach clench.
She knew what her handwriting looked like. Large, childish, letters. Badly spelled words. Shame flashed through her at the thought of being ridiculed by this woman, a scientist no less. Someone she’d looked up to once, a long time ago, before she’d realized the sheer worthlessness of having heroes. Especially heroes like guardians.
Her hands, resting on her knees, closed into tight fists, as she waited for Nyah to mock her as her school peers had so often done. Instead, the notepad was returned, and gently laid beside her.
Nyah said quietly, “I see.”
The sympathy was crushing.
“You see nothing,” Lena ground out.
Nyah’s smile contained a knowingness that made Lena’s fists clench even tighter with anger.
“I’m not stupid,” she said hotly. “You think you have me all worked out.”
“I never said you were. And, if you remember, this discussion came about because I just wanted to know who you are…and we both know who you definitely are not.”
This time the mockery was back in spades.
“Drop it,” Lena said darkly. “I mean it.”
“Why? Afraid I’ll stumble on the truth? Dig up the real woman under all the lies? Or maybe it’s not you, so much as how you grew up. Tell me, Lena Martin, I want to know all about your mother…”
“SHUT UP!” Lena scrambled to her feet and was dismayed to hear her words echoing around the wadi below. “My life is not yours to pick over.”
“And yet mine should be?”
Lena walked back to grab her backpack, and rammed in her notebook. She needed to not be here right now, and losing it in front of the talent was unacceptable. Not again. Not after last night. Nyah was pushing every button she had, and doing it with ease. She was making Lena look like a fool and unraveling her, picking her apart, seemingly at will.
Lena paused. Wait, was that what this was? Payback? She tightened the straps on her bag with vicious jerks as she turned the idea around in her head.
“Leaving so soon?” Nyah asked, the condescension coating her tongue. “But we’ve barely scratched the surface. ‘So much to discuss,’ I believe you said.”
Yep, Lena got it. She was being carved up by a fucking master. She’d be almost impressed at the tables being turned if she wasn’t so damned rattled.
“Another day,” Lena said, voice straining, her hands ghosting down the taut canvas of her pack that she’d tightened until it choked. Losing her temper was not part of her mission. She had to get back in control, and she couldn’t do that right now under those sharp eyes.
“But we barely got to know each other.” Nyah’s drawl became even more pronounced as her amusement leaked out. “What about discussing the latest fashions? Music? Or the girls we like?”
Great. The woman’s perceptiveness clearly had no weak spots. “Another fucking day,” Lena hissed through her teeth. She slid the pack on her back.
“Such eloquence. Did you pick that up at writing school?”
“I can see why your girlfriend dumped your smug ass.” The insult slipped out before Lena could stop it.
However Nyah’s expression didn’t change. “And I can see that you have no one at all in your life. Unlike me, it’s not by choice, is it? You never let down your guard, do you? You probably manipulate everyone 24/7 until no one wants to be anywhere near you. Can you even recall how to speak the truth? Do you even remember what’s true anymore?”
Lena looked directly at Nyah, feeling her rage stab at her anew. “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it? Shit-hot, scary smart,” Lena said with a snarl, wishing she could hide how much Nyah’s words had sliced into her. “But if you think you’re better than me because you’re a scientist from some fancy, evolved world, and I barely got through school, then that just makes you an asshole. Actually you’re worse than that. You’re just a bitter, failed guardian in hiding who lost her edge and can’t deal with life. At least I try to engage with the world. What’s your excuse? ‘Sorry, can’t be bothered. You can all go screw yourselves?’”
“I did help for almost a century, or did that slip your mind?” Nyah said archly.
“Under sufferance though, wasn’t it? You lowered yourself to do the right thing, didn’t you? And now you’re over us. What happened? You get bored? Were we too embarrassingly adoring for your lofty fucking standards? The worst part is that you are as good as you think you are. None of the other guardians have your level of powers. So you know you can make a huge difference, and yet you refuse. That’s not even cold. It’s just pathetic.”
Nyah’s jaw clenched. “Life advice from a trained manipulator? I’m honored.”
“Insults from a coward?” Lena shot back. “Hey, maybe you’re right, Earth doesn’t need to know what Shattergirl thinks about anything. Because Shattergirl isn’t worth the hero title.”
“Ah, yes,” Nyah said silkily, “I was waiting for that, the ‘you’re not worthy’ speech. Do you really think I care what a scheming tracker thinks of me?”
Lena froze.
“You truly thought I didn’t know? Someone who manipulates like a speed agent and can virtually run up cliffs like you do can only be one of Talon Man’s elite trackers. You’re exactly who he loves to hire because you’re just like him. You fling pretty words around that twist people and tie them up in knots until they do whatever you want. You have no shame.”
“You’re just jealous because he’s the leader of your people when you think you should be.” It was a wild guess, but Lena felt a stab of satisfaction when she saw a small twitch in Nyah’s face.
The guardian’s lips pulled down into a snarl. “How little you understand.”
Lena shook her head sharply. “I understand that guardians have every advantage, and all they do is bitch and moan about how hard it all is. Get over yourselves. God! You’re such a freaking disappointment.”
Lena bit her lip, appalled that had just slipped out. Any hope Nyah wouldn’t see the comment for the weakness it betrayed was dashed when the woman cocked a mocking eyebrow.
“I disappoint you? Oh, let me guess, you loved me once, didn’t you?” she suggested, leaning closer. “Had my poster on your wall? And when I was outed, were all your fevered teenage fantasies realized? Your heart burst with pretty pink pride?”
Lena gave a careless snort, but was dumbfounded at how scarily close to the mark she was. Her heart thudded painfully at the memories of years she’d rather bury in a deep hole.
“Then what? I didn’t say exactly the right thing? I wasn’t the proud role model you so badly wanted? I failed you?” Nyah mocked. “I’m so terribly sorry, Lena Martin, that I wasn’t living my life for you. You know what’s most ridiculous? On my world none of us was viewed as special. Here, the adulation is bad enough, but there’s also an expectation to represent this label or that group. Why? Just because we have a few unique skills? Does that even make sense?”
Lena
eyed her morosely.
“What’s wrong, my manipulative tracker? Your favorite hero let you down?” Nyah taunted.
“God, you’re so full of shit,” Lena ground out. “You say it’s the hero-worship stuff you hate, but the truth is you just don’t like being held accountable to anyone but yourself. You hate your responsibilities and obligations to our world—which fits because you hate us so much.”
Nyah laughed coldly. “Ah, yes, well done. That must be it. You’ve figured me out.” She clapped slowly. “Now give Tal and his cronies my best, and pass along my regrets for his ego-stroking ceremony. Goodbye.”
The finality of Nyah’s tone brooked no further discussion. Lena felt the wall between them now as though it stretched a thousand feet high. She had just been comprehensively shut down. And even if the guardian was interested in sparring some more, to what end? They’d just go at it until their throats were dry, neither giving an inch.
Lena had to admit that, for the first time in her life, she’d met her match. Well, been thrashed might be a better word for it. Worse, their encounter had gone so badly that she had learned nothing at all new from Nyah that she could use, and had gained no leverage with which to manipulate her. Instead, she had been eerily, accurately profiled, forced into an angry outburst, and, when Nyah had been finally done with her, sent packing.
She swallowed. It was hellishly unnerving being this bad at something Lena prided herself at being brilliant at. She couldn’t even say the experience had been educational. Lena mechanically shouldered her backpack. It’d been like tap dancing with a nail gun.
Speaking of guns, she supposed she could pull a Dazr on her target. But the guardian’s sharp eyes were watching for it, anticipating. Did she ever miss anything? Lena already knew that answer. Besides, even if Lena was faster, she couldn’t bring herself to go so low with an adversary so worthy. Her ass had been handed to her on a plate, and she was going home.
Without another word, and studiously avoiding glancing in Nyah’s direction so Lena wouldn’t see any triumph, she lowered herself over the ledge and did not look back.
CHAPTER 6
The first fat droplets hit when Lena was halfway down the cliff. Then, like a tap bursting, the skies opened up and threw down a torrent. Her face was soon numb from the pounding, icy rain, and her fingers struggled to find purchase on the rocks. Lena squinted up, blinking, and could make out darkening, purple skies. Looked like more than just rain, but a nasty storm brewing. Just great. What an absolutely freaking great end to a shitty morning.
Almost as soon as she’d had the thought, the wind picked up and began curling around the face of the cliff, like giant fingers plucking at her. Her solid but small frame repeatedly lifted and slammed against the rock wall. It took everything she had to stay attached.
Her muscles trembled as she reached down with her foot for the next hold. Her boot hit a smooth, slippery patch. Another gust of wind, stronger than the last, tore her legs to the right. She swung her weight in the other direction to compensate.
Lena impacted solidly against the cliff, gritting her teeth against the pain, mercifully finding a new protrusion for her foot. She looked up, just as a rock the size of a toaster bounced and skittered towards her. Lena ducked her head, its tumbling weight missing her by inches as it grazed her backpack and continued its descent. She swore softly. She had to get down, now. Anything had to be better than this crapshoot.
It had been almost forty-five minutes, and her muscles were cramping up. She peered down. Still barely past halfway. Her fingers, almost white from the pressure of hanging on, quivered from having to support her weight.
Another searing gust tore across the cliff face, again threatening to rip her from it. She rammed her feet onto their holds, her left boot scrabbling for a moment before settling.
The pain in her arms had gone from an aching throb to a searing objection at being held for such an extended period. With a growing sense of dread, Lena knew she could hold on for only a few minutes more.
At that sobering thought, her mind wandered to dark places. If she tumbled to her death, would Nyah bother collecting and dumping her body somewhere for the authorities to find? Or would she toss her out to sea just so she didn’t have to look at it?
The logical part of her brain, the part which knew how all her targets ticked, reluctantly conceded the answer—underneath everything, Nyah was a good and decent person. She’d been a guardian for a century despite hating it. So, she would do the right thing.
That thought gave her little comfort.
The rain became heavier. Lena peered around at the various cliff faces jutting up from the wadi and wondered at the shimmer she was seeing. All along the ridges, water was starting to trickle from the top, creating hundreds of mini waterfalls. It would be pretty if it wasn’t so alarming. She glanced down and realized the ground, far below, was moving. Worse, the churning water seemed to be rising rapidly.
She gritted her teeth.
Lena had now lost feeling in her icy fingers. Her arms were spasming, and one boot kept slipping off its hold. In the eerie daylight darkness she could no longer see where to put her other boot.
She shivered uncontrollably as another gust of rain shuddered through, tearing off her headscarf.
“ARGHH!” she shouted into the wind as she watched it disappear, and felt marginally better for it.
She reviewed her options—take a chance and keep trying to inch down to a ravine that was flash flooding. Or…
Lena contemplated her Dazr. It had a grappling hook setting, but she was old school and didn’t trust it at the best of times. Maybe it was an irrational fear, but what if the electronic rope powered down and blinked off mid-climb? That thought was frightening enough, but when wind and water were in the mix, it seemed risky as hell. Still, it had to be better than nothing.
If she could reach her Dazr, maybe she could do the one thing that made her stomach curdle—get back up the cliff and beg a guardian’s hospitality to ride out the bruising storm in the safety of her cave. The same guardian who, less than an hour ago, she’d just insulted, called a coward, and needled about her girlfriend dumping her ass.
She was so screwed.
Lena swung herself until her backpack twisted to one side. It slid halfway down one arm, its bottom now resting on her thigh. Using her teeth and nose, she nudged the buckle open after a few attempts. Wind howled in her ears as she leaned forward, desperately hoping her calisthenics had shifted the Dazr from the very bottom of the bag.
A gleam of polished metal caught her eye, and she almost wept with relief. She took a deep breath, clutching her holds as tightly as she could at three points, and rammed her hand into her bag, pulling the Dazr out. She thumbed the setting to “Hook.” Her other arm was screaming in agony at supporting so much of her weight. Then one foot began to slip.
Now or never. She pointed the gun to the top of the cliff and smashed the trigger as hard as she could with her finger. Blue light arced upwards, twirling around itself, forming a solid rope, and then, at its end, it morphed and shimmered into a claw. It sailed over the ledge above, coming to a rest. She gave it a tug, tapped the “Lock” setting on her gun, and waited as the claw scraped and shuddered, retracting back towards the edge, seeking an anchor point to grip. It settled on something out of sight which she hoped like hell was solid. She tested it with a mighty jerk. To her relief and surprise, it held.
Lena shrugged and twisted her shoulders until her pack returned to the center of her back and, after a pause to gather her courage, put both hands on the Dazr, clutching it in a death grip. She thumbed the “Retract” button and sucked in a breath.
There was a bounce, then a split second’s pause, and then she was shooting upwards. The alien tech made it seem easy. This felt so simple. She’d been hauling ass manually up cliffs for years when she could have been…
CRACK.
Whatever boulder was holding her hook in place abruptly shifted forward, and fear rocke
ted through Lena as the rope jangled and jerked suddenly, swaying her wildly.
“HOLD ON!” she screamed at it.
A fresh gust of wind pushed her sideways. Then the boulder pinning the hook came into view as it began to inch forward towards her. The Dazr’s blue rope suddenly flickered. A warning flashed on the screen: “Anchor point unstable.”
“I know!” she hissed at it in disbelief. “Fuck it, I can see the damn rock moving!”
The shifting rock finally found the cliff edge and, to Lena’s horror, began to drop directly towards her. Simultaneously the electrical rope disappeared with a soft warning beep…and that was that.
There was nothing but air.
Lena tumbled backwards, staring up at her boots in disbelief. Her traitorous Dazr fell from her grip, spiraling on its way to the wadi floor.
The sensation of silence was what surprised Lena most, not the fact she was about to die. Her brain seemed to block out everything else around her apart from the stomach-plunging feeling of free fall. A roller coaster with no bottom.
So. This was how it was going to end.
Time slowed and warped. She pictured her funeral. No one to mourn her. Her boss would probably have to turn up—although she didn’t know if Bruce Dutton even liked her. For a microsecond she strained to work out whether he did, and decided probably not. Maybe Mrs. Finkel would miss her. A brief image of fatty Bernstein flashed into her mind.
So much for poignant last thoughts.
But there would be no one else. It was true. Just like Nyah said. Lena Martin had no one.
With that depressing thought, her mind emptied, and she willed the end to be painless and instant. That was pretty likely, given the huge boulder she’d dislodged was bearing down on her from above too.
If the fall didn’t crush her, it would.
Something streaked past her. Then a waterfall of rocks was falling around her, as though something enormous had exploded above her. The eerie silence was replaced by the ferocious roar as all the elements suddenly crowded in on her. The howl of wind returned as her torso jerked and her arms were gripped painfully.