Assassin (The Revelations Cycle Book 11)

by Kacey Ezell

  “Mhrand,” Death finally said in exasperation as they walked up the ship’s ramp and to their shared couch. “You must stop this. I am well! Better than well. You are being ridiculous.”

  “Beloved,” her fog-colored lover said, his voice thready with stress. “I know you are. And more than capable. It’s just…the risk…”

  “Gravid females have been flying aboard suborbitals throughout the long history of suborbital flight, dear one,” she said drily. She stepped carefully into the couch and laid down. Unlike the cockpit of her Basreeni fighter, the passenger couch of this luxury liner was fleecy and soft. She curled into a comfortable sleeping position, legs tucked underneath, tail wound around herself, and looked up at her lover with wide, comfortable eyes. “No harm has ever come to a single litter because of it.”

  “I…all right,” Mhrand said, his tail twitching nervously. But he climbed into the couch beside her and settled his muscled body around hers. Death breathed deeply of his scent and allowed her eyes to close. The one effect of pregnancy she’d felt so far was the fatigue. She was so tired. All the time.

  The faint vibration humming through the shuttle’s frame intensified as they prepared for launch. Safe in the warmth of the couch, coiled in the scent of her lover, Death let herself drift into sleep.

  And woke, later, as the suborbital touched down in the mountains that were home.

  “Beloved,” Mhrand purred into her ear. “Come. We have arrived.”

  After four years, it felt surreal to step off the ship onto the soil of her clan’s mountain. She’d been home during her contract, of course, but this was different. Her contract was complete; she was free of obligation. And the secret joy she carried in her body made what was always home even more hers.

  The green light that filtered through the jungle painted patterns over her fur and his as she led him to the door of the clan’s sanctuary and home.

  “Be welcomed, love of my nights,” she said as he stepped over the threshold. Mhrand paused then, and looked back at her with a slow blink.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I don’t have your poetry.”

  She laughed then, and rose up on two legs so that they could enter with fingers entwined.

  “No one is here to meet you?” Mhrand asked, disapproval shading his tone as they walked down the empty corridor inside the door.

  “I sent no word ahead,” Death replied.

  “No? Why not? Surely you are due some ceremony?”

  “Probably,” Death said. “But I thought to make it easier on you. We will settle into our quarters and relax before forcing you to meet everyone.”

  Mhrand’s paw tightened around hers.

  “You show me too much care and not enough for yourself,” he said. “You will be Dama…”

  “Shhh. That has not been pronounced yet, and I would announce our news to my family in my own way.”

  “Of course! I am sorry, dear one, I just…”

  “I know. You are careful of my dignity. Perhaps too much so.”

  “I love you,” he said simply. “I only want to ensure you have the honors that are yours.”

  She stopped walking and turned to face him.

  “Mhrand,” she said, “I am well. It is well. We are home. You can relax. I did not ask you to come with me so you could be a guardian of my consequence. I asked you to come with me because I love you. Because I want you to meet my family, my Clan. Because I want you to join with me in a life-bond and help me raise our offspring here. Please, beloved. Relax.”

  Mhrand looked at her for a long moment, his beautiful eyes searching her face. Then he slow blinked an assent and leaned in to press his cheekbone to hers.

  “You steal my breath,” he whispered.

  “And you, mine,” she whispered back. “Even if you insist that you have no poetry.”

  This wry observation caused him to let out a short laugh, and he backed away from her a bit.

  “All right,” he said. “I will try.”

  “Good,” she replied. “We are here.”

  A door in the corridor slid up into the ceiling, revealing a comfortable chamber with curving walls and a wide couch high on the far wall. Death recaptured her lover’s paw in her own and led him through into the room that had been hers from the time she was a tiny kita.

  Once inside, she used her pinplants to merge into the Den’s network and inform the Clan’s resident healer that she was home, and would call upon him in a ninth of a Mrur. Then she sent another message before retreating to the high couch for a rest with her lover while her luggage was brought in from the transport.

  A ninth of a Mrur, and then they would see.

  * * *

  “So your molly is also a healer?” Mhrand asked later, as they exited Death’s room and resumed trekking down the corridor toward the healer’s suite.

  “Not exactly,” Death said, fighting a smile. “But she has studied for many years and could easily become one. She works well with Jhora, our resident healer, and it will be good for her to be present for the examination.”

  “Because of her expertise?”

  “As I said.”

  “And it has nothing to do with the fact she’s your molly? That her fingerpads were the ones that soothed you as a small kita when you were frightened?” Mhrand asked, a gentle tease in his voice.

  “I am not frightened,” Death replied. “I told you, all is well.”

  “My deadly love, there is no shame in being nervous. This is a momentous undertaking, and one which does not always turn out well. If the scent of your molly’s fur brings you comfort, I am not one to judge you for it,” Mhrand said, stroking her back with his tail as they walked.

  Death couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. She didn’t tell him what was so funny, though. He would figure it out soon enough.

  The Den had a private infirmary set deep in the mountain, past the main living quarters. Though small, the cluster of rooms was well appointed, with the latest in medical technology. Reow had always insisted upon it, citing the sometimes-dangerous nature of their work as Hunters. Jhora, the Healer, had been under contract to the Clan for as long as Death could remember. She was practically part of the family.

  “I greet you, mighty Hunters of the Sky,” Jhora said as the door to the infirmary complex slid into the ceiling.

  “And we greet you, learned Hunter of Illness,” Death said with a smile. She walked through the doorway a step ahead of Mhrand and rubbed her head against the small, cream-colored healer’s cheek in an affectionate hello. “It is good to be home.”

  “It is good to see you home,” Jhora said. “Please, come back into one of the alcoves. You are not hurt? I was told you wished to see me, but not why.”

  “Yes, well…we have something of a private matter to discuss.”

  “Should your lover remain here, then?” the healer asked.

  “This concerns him as well.”

  “Ah. By all means, then, please step right in here,” Jhora said, coming to her back feet and gesturing for the two of them to precede her into one of the examination rooms.

  Death stepped into the room and hopped up onto the examination table before she realized there was someone else present. An unforgivable lapse of attention in any other circumstance, but her happiness at seeing that individual overshadowed any self-recrimination.

  “Susa!” she cried, leaping from the table into the outstretched arms of the Human woman who had raised her.

  “I greet you, mighty sky Hunter,” Susa said, nuzzling Death’s upturned face. “Welcome home, sweet kita.”

  “I greet you, my molly. It is so good to see you.”

  Death leaned into Susa’s touch as she scratched the sensitive spot behind the ears and ran her hands down Death’s back. Then Susa turned and deposited Death back on the examination table, before inclining her head toward Mhrand.

  “I greet you as well, Hunter of the sky and lover of one I love,” the Human said to Mhrand.

  “I g
reet you as well…Human?” Mhrand said, his eyes wide and round. “You are the molly who raised my love?”

  “I am,” Susa said with a smile. “And you are correct, I am Human, sigiled to this clan. I have heard much of your fearsome reputation, Mighty Hunter. I am pleased to finally meet you in person.”

  “Dama brought Susa home when we were tiny kits,” Death said. “Susa cared for us and raised us, just as a Hunter molly would have done. I am who I am today because of her.”

  “Well,” Mhrand said and let out a little laugh. “I suppose I cannot argue with that. It is my pleasure to meet you, Human molly. Thank you for raising the Hunter that captivates me.”

  “Shall we begin our examination?” Jhora asked then. In all the excitement, the small, light-colored healer had blended into the background as she went about her preparatory tasks. Now she stepped forward on two legs, carrying a tray of interesting-looking diagnostic tools.

  “Yes, please,” Death said.

  “And how far along do you estimate you are in gestation?” Susa asked gently. Death’s eyes went wide as the molly surprised her for a second time.

  “You knew?”

  “I guessed. You sent a message that you needed to be examined, but you were not injured nor ill. That can mean very few things, kita of my heart.”

  Death shot a rueful glance at Mhrand and gave a grin and a shrug.

  “Perhaps half a season. We are not exactly certain,” she said. “Are you…proud?”

  “Oh, sweet little one,” Susa said. “I am always proud of you. This is simply cause for even more joy. Let us take a look and see what we’ve got.”

  With confident, measured movements, the Human moved to assist the healer as she gave Death a thorough physical. They used both nanotech-based diagnostic protocols and more traditional methods. The nanomed procedures called for Death to drink some very foul-tasting liquid and then lie motionless while Jhora and Susa stared intently at an oversized slate. The more traditional ones were far more fun.

  “There,” Jhora breathed, as she moved the audio amplifier over Death’s abdomen. “Do you hear that? That’s one heartbeat…and here’s another…three…”

  Mhrand gripped tightly to Death’s extended forepaw, his fingers tightening with every word as his eyes got bigger and bigger. The swishing rhythm of the fetal kittens’ heartbeats echoed in the small chamber, and Death couldn’t stop herself from smiling, nor her eyes from filling with joy.

  “…and four,” Jhora finished, with a satisfied smile. “I count four heartbeats. All good and strong, though with that many, one will likely be small and runty at birth. Perhaps that one may die, but the others should survive birth just fine. And the nano readout agrees. Four kittens. Congratulations, Damita.”

  “Thank you,” Death breathed, feeling the word for mother sink in. “This is…that was unbelievable!”

  She wanted to sit and listen to the sound of her offspring’s heartbeats in that small room for much longer, but that would be a waste of everyone’s time, and Mhrand was itching to leave. He didn’t generally like infirmaries. The wide smile on his face spoke of his own deep happiness, though, and Death felt yet another wave of love for him wash over her.

  “We did this,” she whispered to him as Jhora and Susa cleaned up their instruments and put them away. “You and me, love. We made these kittens between us.”

  “Well, you did,” he said, grinning. “I just helped a little.”

  That made her laugh, and she squeezed his paw.

  Susa looked up and smiled at the two of them.

  “I just got a message,” she said, tapping the pinplant behind her ear. “Your brother-kit, Deluge, has landed and is on his way in. I must go meet him, since he saw fit to call ahead and give me some warning. I shall see you both later, in the parlor?”

  “Yes, of course,” Death said, reaching her free paw out to the Human woman. Susa took it, stroked it, and then leaned in to rub cheekbones.

  “I am so deeply happy for you, kita of my heart,” she whispered. “You will be a wonderful Dama.”

  “Thank you,” Death said and slow blinked a smile.

  “I will bring Del to the parlor,” Susa said. “And I won’t say a word. I suppose you’ll want to surprise everyone.”

  “Of course,” Death said. “I’m rather looking forward to it.”

  * * *

  “I might have guessed I’d find you sprawled everywhere.”

  Deluge heard the soft, sarcastic drawl of his eldest sister-kita and opened his eyes. He hadn’t meant to doze off, but the combination of travel and feeling finally safe at home had lulled him into a nap. Death’s voice, though, was enough to have him wide awake and alert. He rolled over and pulled his body into a low crouch.

  “Giving me warning before attacking? That’s not like you,” he said, dropping his jaw in a grin as he took in his sister-kita’s form.

  Death From Above’s grey-and-brown striped fur made her look like a younger version of their dama. She returned her brother-kit’s grin with one of her own and leapt lightly to a nearby shelf high on the wall. Whenever possible, Death enjoyed being above everyone else. She’d even gone so far as to become a qualified Basreeni and starship pilot. Deluge had always thought her particularly well-named.

  She sauntered along the shelf, followed by the grey bulk of her chosen lover. Mhrand, of the Creeping Fog clan from down in the lowlands somewhere. For the past two seasons, wherever Death had gone, Mhrand stalked right behind her. Like Death, Mhrand was an aerial Hunter, one of the pilots who flew the Basreeni fighters to ensure the integrity of Khatashi atmospheric and orbital space. He was big, and loud, and jovial.

  Deluge liked him a great deal.

  He got to his feet and waited until Death had walked almost precisely half the length of the shelf toward him. Then she stopped and sat, and began grooming her face nonchalantly. Deluge grinned again and shook his head.

  “You still haven’t grown out of your kittenish games, sister?” he asked as he made a leap up to the far side of the shelf. Her ears twitched in a silent laugh, but she otherwise ignored him, appearing intent on washing her face. Deluge looked to Mhrand, who lifted a paw and smiled, as if to ask what he could do about his love’s stubborn nature. Deluge dropped his jaw in a chuckle, because all three of them knew the answer to that.

  Not a single thing.

  So, as always, Death got her way, and he came to her.

  “I greet you, little brother,” she said in that demure voice that clearly said she was scheming something or other. She lifted her face, angling her cheekbone in offer. With pleasure rumbling forth from his chest, Deluge bent to nuzzle her face and mingle scents—

  Only to find himself flipped to his back and falling toward the floor as she swept his legs and rolled them both off the shelf. Deluge heard Mhrand let out a yowl of surprise and fear as they fell.

  Of course, it wasn’t that far, and it was easy enough to flip around and land on his feet, but as soon as he did so, Death was there, tangling up his arms, pulling him down to the ground despite his greater mass. He managed to get one of his arms up in between the two of them, and flexed his claws enough that it broke the skin on her chest. She let out a hissing sigh and shoved away from him. He rolled and came up in a crouch.

  “Nice,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting the claws. Good work. You’ve gotten better.”

  “As have you. I greet you, sister, and I’m glad to see that all the soft living of a pilot hasn’t eroded your wrestling skills,” Deluge answered, grinning.

  “Hey, easy with that,” Mhrand said as he hopped from shelf to pedestal to lower ledge to the floor. “It isn’t all ‘soft living.’”

  “I greet you, aerial Hunter,” Deluge said, turning to include the gray Hunter in the conversation. “And I hope you know I’m merely teasing my sister-kita.”

  “I greet you, Hunter of the surface and stars. And I know. You Night Wind clan play rough, whether the sparring is verbal or physical. I have learne
d this.” As he spoke, Mhrand came up next to Death and pressed the side of his body affectionately close to hers.

  “Speaking of which,” Mhrand said, dropping his tone and looking over at Death, trying to catch her eyes. “Was that wise, dear one?”

  “It is fine,” she said. “The clan healers all say that I am in excellent health, and it is early enough that I should have no ill effects from my usual sorts of exercise.”

  “Yes, but did the healers know what all you considered your ‘usual sort’ of exercise?”

  “What?” Deluge asked, confused. “What are you talking about? Death, are you ill? Why are you seeing the healers?”

  His sister-kita met his eyes and gave a small smile.

  “I’m sure you can figure it out if you try, Deluge. I’m not ill, but I won’t tell you before I tell the rest of the clan. Susa said they should be here any minute.”

  Deluge felt his brow wrinkle, and he sat down hard to think about it. Death looked over at Mhrand with a smile and a softening of the line of her body. She suddenly looked so intensely happy that she seemed almost to glow…

  Deluge felt his eyes open wide with shock as suddenly, he understood.

  “Death!” he gasped. “Are you serious?”

  She turned her beatific smile on him and nodded.

  “Don’t say anything. I must tell Dama first. You know this.”

  “I…yes, of course! Oh, but…congratulations, I’m so happy for you!”

  Mhrand started laughing out loud, his own purr heavy in the sound.

  “You were right, dear one,” he said. “You nailed Deluge’s reaction exactly.”

  “Reaction to what?”

  The far door had opened, and in walked the most important figure in Deluge’s life. Susa was his molly, the female who raised and nurtured him, but even she could not supplant the role of the Hunter who entered the room on her back two legs. Even here, safe at home, she moved like the wind for which she was named. Every line of her body whispered of a quiet lethality.