She nuzzled her face into his chest. “No. Just hold me. Watch over me while I sleep. I’m so tired, tired of everything, my life, everything. Just keep me here close to you.”
“All right.” He reached over and pulled a blanket across their naked bodies. “But you come home with me in the morning.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement, a simple demand she knew he expected her to follow.
She closed her eyes, the shakes from the caffeine finally wearing down. Melia focused on breathing, on the darkness behind her closed eyelids, and the sturdy masculine body pressed to hers. She wished things could be different, but knew the route Enrue wanted her to take could not exist.
Chapter Twenty Nine
Hostage
Sima walked along the pews in the empty Habiri church, her fingers trailing over each seat as she passed. She stared at the ominous podium, flanked by two large, wooden carvings of a man and a woman, each reaching for the other. She felt a connection to this place, to the people who ran in, if only because of Sister Lensi. “To think my father spoke here not long ago.” She climbed the steps, the lingering scent of incense sweet in the temperature controlled air. A pain twisted in her heart and she wondered if he thought of her at all, if he mourned the loss of his only child.
Word had come that Razi and the band of rebels had infiltrated the first of three black market slavers. She worried about him. It wasn’t his nature to be the aggressor, to fight or stand up for someone other than himself. She took her place behind the podium and gazed out across the wide worship arena. A feeling of déjà vu swept over her and another sense, an eerie desire to be able to speak to the people unveiled, to be known again for who she was, to stand up and shout out that what the Empire was doing was wrong. She swallowed back her desires and cleared her throat.
At the far end of the massive room, a door opened, and the Unangi shaman came ambling along in his hesitant gait. His eyes were large and round as he took in the place, obviously overwhelmed by its sheer size.
Today, they were to meet with Sister Genaro, the leader of another sect of the Habiri Rebellion, and Sima felt unprepared. She waved at the older man and descended the steps to join him at the first pew. They sat, side by side, and stared at each other in silence until Lensi joined them.
“Sister Genaro is running late,” she called, her voice echoing. “And something’s wrong…”
“What is it?” Sima turned and shot Lensi a pointed look. “Is Razi all right?”
“As far as I know, he’s fine, but across the street at the packing plant, there’s a police cruiser.” She hurried along the center aisle to join them. “Only its markings aren’t quite right. It’s not an official Tarafian cruiser. Two emblems are missing.”
“What does that mean?” Sima stood. “Who is it then?”
Lensi cleared her throat and nodded at the shaman, urging him to stand. “Well, who else would spy on the Habiri Church? Your father has no reason to. We have no enemies…that know what we’re capable of. Unless…”
“Do you think it’s an envoy from Kyleena?”
Lensi nodded. She held out her hand to Sima. “Follow me. I have a place to hide you. And you as well, Achi.”
They trailed after the large woman. Up the stage and into the darkness, they crept though dark side passages, and Sima wondered how the Sister could find her way.
They came out in a basement, piled high with crates. It didn’t smell dusty or old, but clean and well-cared for. Sima squinted in the dim light, trying to make out just where she was. “Is this—”
“A loading bay. We only use it under cover of night. It’s not authorized, and no, those boxes aren’t holding anything you’d want to open and toy with.” She placed Sima’s hand over Achi’s and pointed to the back of the room. “Take him and hide there until I come for you.”
“Where are you going?” Sima asked.
“I have to find Leuj. I don’t want them to get their hands on him, either.” She spun and rushed away, leaving Sima and Achi in the bay.
“They wouldn’t want Leuj anyway,” Sima muttered. “You’re the only one who does.”
The former leader of Irnia would probably be welcomed back with open arms by the Kyleena Empire. He worked well with the Corps, and the black markets had thrived in his city before her father overthrew him.
“The winds changed when I came to this place. It is not the home of my gods.” Achi wrung his leathery hands together, his dark eyes on the opposite entry Lensi had vanished through. “The jungle calls to me…the trees.”
Sima patted his shoulder. “We’re safe here,” she told him, hoping he’d believe her. “Don’t worry.”
Time passed slowly. Sounds boomed in the higher levels of the church. Sima shuddered and huddled beside the shaman in the corner of the bay. Achi hummed under his breath, his voice a soft drone much like a swarm of insects. When footsteps thundered down the steps and into the bay, Sima knew things had indeed gone wrong. She took Achi’s hand, squeezed it and waited.
“We know you’re down here, Moquai.” The voice calling her title made her shiver, a deep, male sound, itching into her conscience.
“Shit,” she whispered.
Achi shook his head, lowering his piercing gaze to the floor. He continued his hum, but his shoulders slumped and he released her hand.
Bending toward him, she whispered in his ear. “It’s me they want. Stay here, stay quiet. Maybe no one will notice you.”
Achi nodded.
She stepped around the crates, holding her head high, squaring her shoulders. Sima entered the bright light of a hand-held search beacon and squinted.
Someone clucked his tongue. “So, it is true. Ah, my chameleon never lets me down.” The man crossed through the beam of light, his face half-hidden beneath a black swathe of fabric. His ebony skin and locks of dark hair suggested Unangi lineage, but Sima sensed something else about him, something she couldn’t quite place. “Why are you hiding, Moquai? Why, when your father is in such a position of power?”
“I have nothing to do with my father,” she spat. “He sold me off to the Oemir of Irnia. When I fled the arrangement and he couldn’t get his precious treaty, he overthrew the government. I have nothing to do with it!”
Moving with a speed she could scarce measure, the man appeared at her side, his clawed fingers locking on her arm. With his free hand, he pulled down the veil from his mouth. His smile revealed four sharp teeth in an otherwise human mouth. “Wrong. You have everything to do with it now.” He tugged her against him and bent to speak against her cheek. “You see, your father has the Emperor’s daughter and now, the Empire has you.” His claws nipped her flesh. “I wonder which one will die first. Don’t you?”
“My father cares nothing for me. He cares for no one! Can’t you see that?” She tried to pull from his grip, but only succeeded in causing his claws to sink deeper. “Let me go!”
“Ah. He doesn’t care about his only child. Tsk, tsk.” He dragged her along, past a set of guards with their faces hidden. “Then I guess you will be the first to meet the Holy Mother.”
A wide shape stood in the doorway, her hand gripping a stunner. “Release her,” Lensi ordered.
For a moment, claws lessened their pinching hold. Light flashed and Lensi, always so solid, so invincible, fell to the floor in a heap. Sima screamed in horror. The guards descended on her, taking her wrists, holding her in place until their leader sniffed over his shoulder. “Crazed nun.” He waved for his men to follow.
Chapter Thirty
Questioning
Melia lay awake staring at the rust on the worn ceiling above her. At her side, Enrue’s warm body pressed to hers, his arm languishing across her middle. His breathing calmed her, warm and ticklish by her ear. She wondered why he brought about such a change in her, awakening some semblance of humanity she’d thought long dead after her training under Daschia. Despite his cold countenance, she knew the Shiemir was a good man. What he wanted to do was unselfish and impossib
le.
She rose and sighed when his arm slid away. Four days had passed since last she spoke to her boss. He’d be angry if she didn’t show on time. She found her clothes in the back room in a crumpled pile. Throwing them on, she kept eyeing the door, half expecting someone to burst in and catch her. Though she knew there was no Tagian Tracker in her body, she’d always wondered if her boss had other ways of locating her.
Dressed and ready to abandon her hit, Melia turned back and stood in the doorway, staring down at Enrue. He slept on his side, his arm curled around a knot of blankets where she had been. She glanced away, staring at the door once more, at the next place she needed to get to. Daschia would be in the city by now. He’d be waiting for her at the net café on the edge of town in an hour. She clenched her hands into fists. I should kill him and end this madness. Crossing the distance of the room, she tried to put the thought of his eyes out of her mind. His neck would crack like any other man’s.
The Shiemir stirred, his face turning, his eyes opening and locking on her. He held out his arms and smiled. “Come back here.”
Melia halted and shook her head. “I have an appointment. I’ll be late if I stay longer.” She stole a glance over her shoulder, cursing herself for not leaving.
Enrue groaned and scrambled to stand. The blanket fell away and he strode across the floor in the nude. His thick arms closed over her. “Who’s your appointment with? Another of my allies? There aren’t many of us left, thanks to you.”
“No.” She shook her head and flinched when he kissed her cheek.
“Another lover?” A hint of jealousy burned in his gaze.
“My boss is on his way to find me. I’ve failed him. I’ll be punished.” She tried to step away, but he wouldn’t let her. Melia placed two fingers on his lips. “You need to be more careful. Never go anywhere alone. Carry a simple weapon on you at all times.”
“Protect me,” he said behind her fingers. “Stay with me.”
“You know I can’t. Enrue, we’re enemies. We will always be that.” She lowered her fingers across his chin, his neck and swept them from side to side along his chest. He still felt warm from the nest they’d slept in. “When you see me again, don’t come close.”
His lips pursed and one of his hands ran up and down her back, heating her. “It doesn’t have to be this way. Side with me. There must be others like you, more wards, more who want out. You could be an asset to the cause.”
“I never said I wanted out,” she blurted.
“Don’t you?” He lifted his face to regard her, his serious expression seeking the truth. “You like killing? It suits you? It makes you happy?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What makes you happy?”
His lips parted as his eyes slipped from her attentions to study the floor. “I—I,” he stammered. “I have no idea anymore.” Stepping away from her, he paced. “I hoped it would be my wife. That was a long time ago.” Fingers grasped his chin, pinching as he contemplated the simple question. “Then I hoped my daughter…”
“This war? Does it make you happy?”
He shook his head. “Life is not so simple. You of all people, someone trained to kill, should know that fact. It’s not black and white, right and wrong.”
“I know well enough. It’s the one holding the most shens that matters, Shiemir. If you don’t realize that, you’re an idiot. Kyleena is holding the pile. They can fight your puny resistance as easily as a man smites an insect buzzing near his ear. You’re nothing to the Empire, a thorn, a small annoyance to be dealt with.” She began to back away. Leaving him now, in the midst of something that could only turn into an argument, didn’t please her.
“And you,” he countered. “What does the Empire think of you? Are you valuable? Do you matter? Do you make a difference?” He stepped to follow her, but she increased her pace. The handle came into her fingers, cold and unyielding lest she push.
“I do my job. That’s what matters.” She swallowed and turned her back on him. “Remember that and forget me.” Melia left him standing there naked. She marched down the alley and out into the bustling street. As she moved along, she bumped into a jogger and immediately took on the woman’s shape, camouflaging all but her traitorous golden eyes. She raced along, anxious to have the whole uncomfortable assignment behind her.
Chapter Thirty One
Third Assignment
Razi untied the young man with care. He was nothing more than a teen, his fingers trembling with fear, his dark eyes wide. “You’ll be fine now,” he told the boy. “The Habiri Church will care for you. No one here can hurt you anymore.”
His accent thick, the young man spoke, “But what about my sister?”
“What do you mean? Is she here?”
“She is home in Udenti.” The bindings came free. Rope fell to the concrete floor, useless now.
“They bought you?” He bent to unlace the bindings on the boy’s ankles. With that done, he offered him a blanket to cover himself. Most of the wards in this trade shop were nude and ill-treated, some starved. It made no sense to treat people in such ways.
“They said she would be cared for, that she could go to school in the north.” The boy rubbed his raw wrists, wincing at the pain. “Now, will they send her back to the jungle? She has no one there.”
“I don’t know,” he answered, helping the boy up. “We will find her for you and make sure she’s cared for too.”
Skeptical, the boy nodded and joined the line of newly made refugees. They gasped and spoke in low tones when they passed the office where the guards lay dead.
The first man he’d shot still weighed on Razi’s mind. He felt he still had the man’s blood spattered on his left cheek even though he knew he’d washed it off days before. When the nightmare of all he’d done drained him, he closed his eyes and thought of his wife, somewhere safe within the system of the Habiri Church. Lensi wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He sidestepped the crowd and sat behind the touchscreen, punching in keycodes until he found the documents they needed. Shipping orders, docs that revealed the trade routes, the pick-up contacts, names, dates, even the locations of other, lesser slaver businesses. He copied it to a datacard, ejected it and slipped the thin rectangle of plastic into his pocket.
Razi sat back in the worn vinyl chair and watched the line of people pass. Most looked bewildered. He supposed he had appeared that way when he first entered Hicklan’s ward system. The tracker in his arm itched and he scratched at it, remembering the day they injected the implant and the cryptic message that he could never leave, never run away or they’d find him. They told him he couldn’t remove the chip or it would explode and kill him. Then they’d sent him off to school.
The last ward stumbled up the steps toward the light of a new life. Razi stood, brushed himself off, and stepped over the dead bodies and pooling blood. This was the last place he had to go. He never wanted to do anything like this again.
He climbed the steps and let the warmth of the double suns soothe him. Numb and worn out from sleepless nights and the grueling job of being a decoy for slaver guards, only to kill them in the end, he seated himself in the church shuttle, eased back into the hard bench chair and stared through the plasma window. The city was filthy with litter tumbling down the gravel streets and graffiti covering what used to be a fine metal walk and glass sided building.
The shuttle’s engines hummed to life. It hovered and he closed his eyes, listening to the soft music playing on the radio. The driver was silent. The few wards they’d loaded into the shuttle were too scared to say anything. They probably think we’re slavers.
The music ended and the local news started up. As always, he paid attention to the announcements, the stock reports, the crop tallies and even the weather in Taraf and Alga.
“The Emperor’s daughter has been reported missing,” the announcer stated. “An informant who wishes to remain anonymous states that this is the work of the infamous Doer Seven, said to be a terrorist group in the out
er rim responsible for the hostile takeover of the city of Irnia.”
Razi tensed. This was a new twist the media was playing. He rubbed his aching forehead and blew out a sigh.
“The Empire has assigned a regiment to investigate this so-called terrorist group—” The news was suddenly interrupted by the driver changing the station.
Razi clenched his teeth, but decided he’d leave well enough alone. Sometimes it was best to be ignorant, or at least he’d felt that way once, not so long ago. He lay on his side, curling his long legs up onto the seat and tried to get some rest. They had a long flight back to Taraf and he’d just as soon sleep until they got there.
* * * *
Someone shook him awake. The shuttle had landed and the refugees were absent. “Something’s wrong,” the driver said, his voice low. “Come on.”
There was too much silence. Razi stumbled out of the shuttle and gaped at the tell-tale signs of a raid. The rear door of the church hung from one hinge. Beyond the opening, lights flickered and crates lay in haphazard heaps, smashed open, their bubbled packaging spread across the floor. He hurried inside, his heart catching in his throat.
“Where’s Lensi!” he shouted at the gathering of Habiri nuns cleaning up the mess. They halted and shot him blank look after blank look. “Where’s Sister Lensi! Where’s my wife!”
One backed away, terrified by his outburst. Another, thin and pale, took a step forward. “The Empyreal Guard has come. We’ve been searched.” She gestured at the ruined crates. “They’ve taken our weapons.” She took another step toward him, her eyes imploring. “What will we do now? They know. They know what we’ve been hiding.”
She reached out and grasped his sleeve. He shrugged off her touch. “Where the hell is Oemir Leuj! I want to see him. Now!”
The nun swallowed and widened her eyes. “He is…in hiding.”
“You take me to him right now. This is bullshit, all of it. I never should have agreed to come here.”
Urden, God of Desire Page 14