Arrow to the Soul

by Lea Griffith

  “I will not break,” she said again, and thought she yelled, hoped her screams made the voice disappear. It offered the illusion of safety, and in the dark there was no safety.

  “Saya.” Just her name but it was insidious. She recognized the voice instinctively and wondered why. He’d become a stealthy foe in a war she’d not been prepared for.

  She cried then, tears leaking from her eyes as her heart shuddered in her chest. She had no control here. “You will not break me.”

  The maelstrom took her over then, boiling her in unbearable heat and taunting her with failure. She gave over because in the end it was the only thing she could do. She must rest now so she could fight another day.

  Chapter Ten

  The light went from pale pink to bright yellow past Arrow’s closed lids. She was alone in the room, had been for an hour. When the man, Dmitry, finally left, she took her first full breath in what she knew had to be at least three days.

  She moved her limbs slowly, cautiously, aware that once she sat up fire would radiate along her side and settle in with pain-tipped claws. Arrow opened her eyes and found herself in an infirmary-type room. Monitors beeped and her left arm pinched at the bite of an intravenous needle. She went to work on that first.

  Within seconds she removed the IV and was working on the leads attached to her chest when footsteps sounded from beyond the door. Bullet.

  Her sister entered and sat down beside the bed. Arrow didn’t glance at her, intent on swinging her legs to the side of the bed so she could stand.

  “Probably not wise,” Bullet said in the silence.

  Arrow breathed through the pain. She had been through much worse. There’d been a time in North Korea when she’d given herself up to save a child. The child survived, making it across the demilitarized zone. Arrow suffered for her deeds. The North Koreans were nothing if not inventive in their torture techniques. She wore a long, jagged scar on her lower abdomen as proof.

  She allowed a smile to curve her lips as she remembered how their cockiness led to their downfall. Her holding cell had been made of wood. And from wood all manner of weapons could be formed.

  “You’re smiling. I didn’t realize pain was so precious to you,” Bullet murmured.

  Arrow grunted and hissed as she finally stood to her feet. “Pain is fleeting.”

  “Yes.” Bullet nodded but on her face was a mask of indifference. “Tell me, sister, why did you come here?”

  “Revenge,” she replied as she took a step toward the window.

  “It is more than revenge that brought you to this place.”

  Anger curled through Arrow. “If you know the answer, why ask the question?”

  “I will not let any of you hurt him.”

  Arrow turned the full force of her gaze on Bullet then. “You’re a stupid woman for thinking we would. I had opportunity in Arequipa and didn’t harm your precious Mr. Beckett. We have each had opportunity as we watched over you.” Bullet’s gaze flinched for a split second, and then she notched her chin, staring back without fear. “You and he are one now. We recognized the truth of this when you nearly gave your life for him in the water pit. Do you think we would sever his life and hurt you in the process? My God, Bullet, what do you think of us?”

  “I think you would hurt whoever you needed to in pursuit of revenge.”

  Arrow clenched her hands, digging her nails into her palms. Where was the pain when she needed it? Numbness flowed from her side now when she would have rather it be spitting fire. “We would never hurt you.”

  Bullet stood and her blue eyes were fathomless in the morning light streaming through the window. “You won’t hurt Rand either.”

  Arrow nodded though Bullet hadn’t asked a question. Fatigue beat at her and demanded she crawl back into the bed and rest.

  “I’ll return later and we’ll go see the babies.”

  “I want Hunstall first,” Arrow bit out.

  Bullet glanced back at her as she reached the door. “How do you know we have him?”

  Arrow closed her mouth, unwilling to divulge just how she knew. Not to Bullet and not right now. How could she voice that she recognized Adam Collins was like her? That finding the one who’d harmed her would be paramount to him. From the moment she’d woken and become aware of her surroundings, that truth rebounded through her.

  “So it’s like that, is it?”

  Arrow narrowed her gaze. “You know nothing, Bullet.”

  “I know what I need to, sister. Remember that,” Bullet warned and then stepped out of the room.

  Arrow acknowledged her sister had changed. For a second envy bit deep and she smiled. Out of them all, Bullet had the heart for love. After all, she’d warmed Ninka’s hand in the bitter cold of Arequipa’s nights. The rest of them were entirely too hard for such an emotion.

  She took a breath, letting it fill her lungs and move through her body. Then she walked around the room, her circles small at first then growing larger. It took five circles for her to be breathless. Another circle, and she found her breath while stilling the ripples in her mind. She pushed the pain down as far as it would go and felt her body loosen as she moved.

  Three days was an interminable amount of time when there was a strict schedule to keep. Joseph was moving pieces on the board, and Arrow must to get to China soon or many innocents would die.

  Arrow had enough innocents on her conscious. They weighed her down every single day. She’d traveled to Hell before, escaping its clutches on the promise she’d deliver other souls in her place. But her time was running out. She could feel things winding down.

  Her side pinched and she sat gingerly in the chair Bullet vacated. She closed her eyes against the unbearable lightness in the room. She couldn’t stand the dark but the light made her heart hurt. Where exactly did she fit in?

  The answer echoed in her brain. Nowhere.

  “You’re up?”

  His voice moved through her like a cooling wind but she kept her eyes closed. He’d held her while whoever, probably Dmitry, worked on her. Adam had been her voice in the darkness. Alluring, impossibly deep, and so damn soothing she’d raged against the injustice of it. Finding him now when she had only death to offer was the bitterest thing she’d ever experienced.

  “What’s wrong? Are you hurting? Dmitry—”

  “No,” she whispered. “I’m not hurting.”

  “He should probably—”

  She opened her eyes and glanced at him. “I’m fine.”

  His pitch gaze traveled up and down her body. “You were shot.”

  “I was there,” she reminded him ruefully.

  His shoulders tensed. Under the black T-shirt he wore his muscles shifted restlessly. “You took a goddamn bullet for me.”

  A corner of her mouth lifted against her will. “I hate to keep saying this, but I was there.”

  He smiled then, lips curving up and eyes crinkling at the corners. It did something remarkable to her insides. What passed between them was poignant, possibly the most significant emotion she’d ever experienced. Her breathing eased and her heart slowed, the warmth of his smile making her crave something nameless, unspeakable.

  “Yeah. You were there,” he said in a gravelly voice. He cleared his throat and his face blanked. “So, you, uh, up to some walking?”

  “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  “Where we’re headed.”

  He cocked his head and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I’ve been told you want to make a bow and arrow…a umi and ah.”

  “Yumi and ya.”

  He smiled. “That’s what I said.”

  “Of course it was.” She glanced back out the window and stood carefully. The stitches pulled but healing was taking place at a rapid rate. Courtesy of the many, many supplements and rigorous training Joseph raised them all with. She measured her words carefully, not wanting to give him too much leverage, her desire for light won out. “I would like to sit in the sun.”

&
nbsp; He stepped aside and motioned to the door. “Then the sun you shall get.”

  •●•

  Her pupils flared at his words and Adam wondered if anyone had ever given her anything. Saya walked past him and her fragrance floated behind, stroking and teasing. He was used to his body’s reaction to her nearness now. He’d spent time meditating the night she’d been shot. He’d stayed until he’d been sure she was out, and then he’d retreated to his room, drawing the blinds, lighting incense, and walking with the spirits.

  His ancestors told him nothing or maybe he’d just been too consumed with confusion and worry to hear them. He’d withdrawn from his meditative state with assurance that he was well and truly fucked. He loved one woman but desired another. And he desired her like hell on fire.

  Adam followed her, now realizing he had no defenses against the amber of her gaze or the allure of her body. He refused to acknowledge it was more than that which quickened his heart and made his cock hard. He could control both, so they were non-entities.

  But her vulnerability pricked him. He shook his head and caught up with her. She’d managed to get ahead of him while he’d been thinking about her. If she was hurt, she wasn’t about to let it show.

  “Where are we going?” she asked in a soft voice.

  He winced. Everything about her tweaked him. “The sunroom. Bullet had something delivered for you.”

  She said nothing, but her face tightened and her mouth drew down. It was confirmation that nobody had ever done anything nice for her.

  “Follow me,” he ordered.

  “This time.”

  He sighed even as his heart raced. A challenge from her was akin to a passionate kiss from another woman. Aziveh, Aziveh, Aziveh, his mind whispered. Saya, Saya, Saya, chanted his body.

  He walked through the house, pace sedate in deference to her condition. She’d been right. The shot was a through and through, missing vital organs, and healing, according to Dmitry, at an impressive rate. She was like Bullet in her healing abilities. Good for her, bad for the world. As soon as the woman behind him got well, she was going to jet. It was Adam’s job to stop her. It was his mission to make sure she joined forces with Trident. For her safety and everybody else’s.

  They came to the door of the enclosed patio, a sunroom created within the past few weeks especially for Bullet. Rand spared no expense. Bullet loved the light but he’d wanted her safe. The glass that enclosed the room was ironically bullet-proof but allowed the sun to pour in at all angles. It was warm this afternoon, though beyond the glass it was a chillier-than-usual early fall day.

  He turned once he entered the room and found Saya at the entrance hovering in the shadows as if afraid the sun’s golden rays would find her. Her face was blank but her amber eyes reflected heat. Adam wanted to cross to her, take her in his arms, and simply hold her.

  Saya would never allow that. His mind railed at his body and tried to beat it into submission but it was an impossible task. Adam’s body wanted her. His heart thumped heavily in his chest and mocked him.

  “Are you coming out here or not?” His internal struggle made his voice curt. That even that small amount of his frustration leaked through pissed him off. She was nothing to him.

  She turned her gaze to his and the joy, the absolute wonder that broke over her face stunned Adam. No matter that she’d killed, in that moment her soul was so pure in her desire to do nothing more than sit in the sunlight he couldn’t grasp it the enormity of it. Joseph had damaged her. He’d broken a tiny child and in its place a woman of unfathomable darkness had risen.

  Her yearning for the sun was unconceivable but it was there in the slight uplifting at the corner of her mouth and the sheen of moisture in her eyes.

  “Did you hear me?” Again his voice rang with harshness, but it couldn’t be helped. She forced him to feel things he should not be feeling for a killer. Hell, emotions he shouldn’t be feeling for anyone besides Aziveh.

  Saya nodded and stepped out of the house into the sunroom. Adam swore the light brightened, streaming around her elegant frame, covetously stroking each contour of her face and body like a lover. A piece of him yearned right along with her. He tightened his hands into fists to stop from reaching for her.

  “It is beautiful, this Virginia of yours,” she whispered. She’d walked to the glass and her hands were plastered against the cool glass, her nose almost touching. It seemed she tried to merge with the barrier, immerse herself in it.

  “It isn’t my Virginia,” he said.

  She ignored him.

  “Over here are the materials Bullet had delivered for you.”

  Saya continued to look out the enormous windows but her shoulders tensed for a second. She’d heard him but chose to remain silent.

  “I’ll be in the house. You have free run of the place except the top floor. Rand doesn’t allow anyone except Bullet there.”

  She said nothing and he shrugged before walking to the door. He wanted to leave, get away from this woman the spirits spoke to him about in his dreams. Adam stopped at the door and couldn’t keep himself from looking back once more.

  Her face was raised to the sun and the smile that played on her lips made his breath catch. He cursed low, turned, and left. He would take a patrol and leave thoughts of her in the woods beyond the house. He had to find Aziveh again and pray he could purge Saya from his blood.

  Chapter Eleven

  Arrow felt him leave. He’d taken the warmth with him and she cursed herself. She had no right to the heat or the light. She was a killer. She lowered her hands and stepped away from the windows. Tomorrow she would need to run, exercise, and reset her mind to her task.

  Today she would craft a weapon.

  Killer.

  The word cemented in her mind she was here for a reason. Adam Collins was not that reason. She crossed over to the corner where a large box sat on a wooden craftsman bench. Arrow smelled the contents before she saw them.

  Rich loam and fragrant wood, the scents grounded Arrow immediately, locking her soul into place as she closed her eyes and let the wood beyond her fingertips speak to her. The bamboo held no particular fragrance, but the soil it grew in reminded her of the before-time.

  Before she had gone to Arequipa to become an instrument of death. Oh, she killed in Japan, but those deaths were justified. Outsiders threatened her home. Her sohei sent little Saya on a journey in the Tamba highlands surrounding Akuma no shinden, the Temple of the Demon and her home. Her priority? Poison and impale the ones who sought to destroy her sohei.

  She’d become guardian to the sohei the moment her mother placed her on their doorstep. Her eyes signified the great warrior monk, Oniwaka Benkei, had delivered them a savior.

  Saya did as she’d been told. No one expected a child of a mere four years to be a bringer of death. She’d infiltrated their camp with the sound of thunder on her heels. Poison began what her crossbow finished. Their water supply infected with livers from fugu, or pufferfish, they had been easy pickings for Saya’s yas. Her fingertips had been raw and her arms tired at the end of that rainy night but blood ran like water and her sohei were safe.

  She returned to her temple and found more death. Saya disappeared and in her place, Arrow had been born.

  Sunlight touched her hand, warming her for a brief moment and pulling her out of her musings. The soil smelled of death but it was a sweet, potent scent. She would work with the bamboo first today.

  Arrow opened her eyes and began pulling the things her sister obtained for her out the box. Dried bamboo, hemp, silk, a short, viciously sharp knife, over twenty three-inch titanium broad-heads, and peacock feathers nestled in the box. Were she at home in Japan, she would have used bone or horns for her broad-heads, but titanium was an acceptable replacement. A long boiling pot that resembled a feeding trough with a burner underneath was to the side of the bench. The craftsman’s bench was fifteen feet long, the dried bamboo exactly ten feet in length. She would make two longbows and twenty arr
ows this day and practice with her sister tonight.

  The part of Arrow that reveled in death demanded she craft her own tools of destruction. That part of her recognized she was lost and commanded she find peace in the crafting of them. Two sides of one coin, her weapons were extensions of who she’d become. Killing with a weapon she hadn’t fashioned was akin to cutting herself.

  Arrow turned on the burner and watched as the water within the trough began to bubble. Watashi wa kirādesu. Kore watashidesu. Yami wa watashi o torikakomi, sono naka ni namerakana mizu no heiwa ga arimasu. It was a chant she’d learned from the cradle. I am a killer. This is me. Darkness surrounds me and within it there is the peace of smooth water. She took the saw Bullet provided and portioned her wood off, ten feet long by one and half inches in diameter. And as she placed the long pieces of bamboo in the boiling water she repeated them in her mind over and over, letting the ebb and flow of the chant center her mind and hands.

  After a time she turned the burner off and removed the heated pieces of wood allowing them to cool for a few precious minutes before she began tillering them. Arrow shaped the many joints of her longbow then held them in place lovingly, joint by joint until the wood conformed to her wishes. She continued to repeat her words, finding succor in the cadence. Once the beautiful curves of the darkened bamboo took hold and stayed, she turned the burner back on, placing another long piece of wood in the trough and repeating the process exactly for the second bow.

  How much time passed she did not know. She recognized Adam Collins returned several times through the day, watching for long periods then disappearing. Her skin would prickle and that’s how she knew he was there. Electricity would arc between them and she tasted the static on the air each time he returned but she ignored it, intent on only one thing: death.

  The sun shone on her and she wondered why she sought its rays to lighten that which couldn’t be found. Her soul was mired in darkness and by very definition lost. Yet she craved the light as much as she did…his touch.

  Her knife slipped as she notched the ends of her yumi. Blood welled on her knuckle and she licked it, the taste of copper familiar and comforting. Perhaps when she was finished with this longbow she would gift it to the one who’d held her attention throughout its creation.