Shoot the Messenger: A Reverse Harem Space Fantasy (Messenger Chronicles Book 1)

by Pippa Dacosta

  He finally finished his food and leaned back in his seat, in no hurry to talk. Behind him, through the window, the station’s framework glittered, illuminated by the blink of passing shuttle lights.

  “What are you?” he asked.

  I wanted so badly to ask him the same. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a simple enough question.”

  “I’m human. Obviously.”

  He pressed his lips together. He didn’t like the way I sidestepped his questions. He was probably used to suspects spilling their secrets every time he flashed his badge.

  After taking his time to consider my answer, he angled himself in the chair to face me. “All right, here’s what I don’t understand. You wield tek, and that weird glow you sometimes summon is magic. Somehow, you can combine both. That shouldn’t be possible. Tek and magic repel each other. Always have. We both know you’re not fae. But you’re not human either. What you do… it defies everything we know about human capabilities. Humans can’t wield magic. So, what are you hiding, Kesh Lasota?”

  He was closer than he knew. “It’s not magic you’re seeing. It’s just enhanced tek.”

  He wasn’t buying it. “You interfere with any complicated tek in your immediate surroundings. I can’t imagine it’s a conscious skill. It’s something built into you, a latent ability. Were you born with it?”

  It had been trained into me, the tek-repelling. Plant-based secretions had been poured under my skin until it became part of who I was. But I wasn’t about to tell him that. The truth of me? It was out of bounds. The marshal didn’t need to get involved.

  He had asked enough questions. Now it was my turn. “Why are you keeping me here?”

  “I’m not.” He stretched out a leg and leaned back against the window, folding his arms across his chest. “You can walk out that door and hitch a ride off Juno anytime you want.” He appeared to be relaxed, but he could spring from that position with the barest physical tells. I’d hunted hundreds of killers. Fought hundreds more. The marshal moved like them, but in a way that hid what he was capable of. Most killers wore their brutality like a badge, but not him. The image of himself he presented was a mask, hiding the truth inside. We had that in common, at least.

  “So, if I ask you to take me back to Calicto, you will?” I tested.

  “Do you want to go back?”

  “I have to,” I replied. Would it be so wrong to let the marshal have a little information? He had connections in law enforcement. He might be able to use those connections to help me get inside Arcon. I’d always worked alone. It was safer that way. But the situation with Arcon and Crater’s faction? Those walls were closing in. I was good at what I did, the marks painting my skin proved it, but the warfae was better than me. They always had been in the end. “I have a friend,” I explained, mirroring Kellee’s crossed arms. “He’s in trouble.”

  “Oh, you do have friends. Do you attack them with your whip too?”

  I gave him a dry look. Kellee was a long way from being a friend. “He was taken.”

  “Is that why you’re running?”

  “I’m running so I can regroup off Calicto and hit back twice as hard.”

  He scanned my expression with a hard one of his own. “Figured as much. You have half the Halow system out to kill or capture you, and you’re going to charge back in to save a friend?” He scratched his chin and briefly averted his gaze. “He must be some friend.”

  “He is.” He couldn’t know Sota was an AI, and it didn’t matter anyway. To me, Sota was real enough.

  “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

  I offered him a slice of a smile. “You don’t know me. You have no idea what I can do.”

  “I have an idea, all right.” His gaze slid to the whip.

  I huffed a laugh. Whatever. This man couldn’t know me. Some days, I didn’t even know myself. “So, why am I here, Marshal? What do you want from me? You aren’t helping me because you’re a nice guy. You want something, and apparently, it’s not the money.”

  “Do I look like I need the v?” He spread his hands.

  He didn’t, but the rich always wanted more. “Then why?”

  He chewed on his words before replying. “You’re right. I’m not a nice guy. Not even close. And I do want something from you.” He tilted his head and appraised me from head to toe. Beneath the weight of his unblinking gaze, my heart picked up its pace and an unexpected flickering shortened my breath. He was quick, and intelligent, and a mystery. And I’d always had a weakness for anyone with enough skills to outmaneuver me. It didn’t happen often.

  Apparently done with his visual inspection, he stood and strode across the room toward me. Instincts warned me to back off and put space between us to swing the whip if I needed to, but I stood my ground. At the last step, he veered to my right to lean against the counter beside me. “Crater was assassinated, but not by you. Do you know how I know that?”

  “No, but you can help by telling Crater’s men to back off. If they rescind the bounty, that would give me room to breathe.” He stood too close. He wasn’t armed, although I hadn’t seen him replace the knife, but it didn’t matter. He radiated threat.

  “They don’t listen to the law so they won’t listen to me. Besides, Crater’s death isn’t the real problem here.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Don’t play coy, Lasota. It doesn’t suit you.”

  My little smile died. “So tell me what really happened, smart ass.”

  “Witness reports claim the entire left-hand side of Crater’s face exploded. The autopsy confirmed those reports. A high-powered projectile struck Crater behind his right ear, entering his skull from behind. Hence why half his face was missing. You stood in front of Crater the whole time you were delivering a message. You didn’t kill him.” Kellee toed open a hidden storage unit concealed beneath the counter and picked up a black bag from inside. He dumped it on the countertop and opened it, revealing the smooth metallic sheen of the warfae’s rifle. It had to be the same gun.

  Why was it in a bag in Kellee’s cupboard and not some secure police HQ somewhere? “Isn’t that evidence?” I asked.

  “You recognize it?”

  “Yes,” I admitted. Kellee already knew I would. My attempt to lie my way around the curious marshal wasn’t working. I would need another angle of attack.

  “Are you going to explain how?”

  I lifted my gaze and looked him in the eye. “Is this an interrogation?”

  That earned me a snarl. “Right here, right now, I’m not a lawman. I stopped being a lawman when I stole an authority shuttle and brought you to my home. I don’t know you, but I brought you here to keep the small army of bounty hunters and assassins from finding you. As thanks, you attack and threaten me right after I bought you lunch. So, how about you try trusting me? Just for a little while? You can go back to trying to kill me once we’re done.”

  He made a good argument. Damn him. “I found the rifle in the construction site across the plaza from Crater’s restaurant.”

  “Did you see the shooter?”

  “No.” The lie twisted inside me.

  “That’s not surprising.”

  Wasn’t it? “Why?”

  “Does anything strike you as odd about this weapon?”

  I scanned it again, remembering Sota’s words. It was a highly modified rifle, likely charged with fae magic when in use. If I told the marshal that, he’d think I was insane. Unless he was testing the waters for information he’d already assumed.

  “Guns aren’t really my thing. I much prefer whips.”

  He ran his hand along the barrel, fingers trembling. “Its design is unusual. Heavily modified from the original in a way that doesn’t make sense, unless there’s an element missing.”

  “What element?” Magic, of course.

  “I’m not sure.” He again scratched his chin, the gesture a nervous tell. “Tek and magic combined, like your whip, perhaps?”

  Good ca
ll. My whip was exactly like the rifle and equally rare. “Do you think the shooter left it there to further implicate me?” I asked, thoughts spiraling. If I told him the truth—not all of it, just enough to stop the questions—he could help. He already suspected something, hence all the questions. Marshal Kellee would make a useful ally.

  “I think someone disturbed him before he could dismantle it. He needed a quick getaway. This rifle would have slowed him down.”

  Yes, it would have. And perhaps then I might have caught the fae. Larsen—unlikely his real name—had left the rifle behind, thinking nobody would know what it was. They certainly wouldn’t suspect it was fae-crafted.

  “Maybe I disturbed him…” My voice sounded distant, lost behind the history crowding my head.

  He turned, sharp eyes scouring my face for clues, for lies, for all the things he knew I was hiding. “If we track down the killer, you’re off the hook.”

  I’d moved closer while looking in Kellee’s bag, and now, when I looked up, flecks of hazel darkened the marshal’s green eyes, and the hint of something more lurked behind his gaze. Oh, I knew exactly where the shooter was. Right in the heart of Calicto, sitting on his oak throne as the head of Arcon. Was this the right time to tell Kellee? If he didn’t believe me, he might laugh me off. But if he did… Unfortunately, if he believed me, that knowledge would likely get him killed. Kellee was a lawman. He would be obliged to investigate. The warfae would kill him. I didn’t know Kellee well, but I didn’t want to see him tortured and killed just because I didn’t think I could get Sota back alone. And I needed help.

  “Tell me why you’re helping me and I’ll tell you everything,” I said.

  “Everything?”

  “All of it.”

  “Tell me everything first, and I’ll tell you why I’m helping you.” His lips twitched and humor brightened his eyes.

  The itch to punch him twitched my fingers. “This isn’t funny, Marshal. There are more lives at stake than you can imagine. This goes way beyond one man’s assassination. What I’m about to tell you could change the way you see the worlds, change everything you know.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Do I need to sit down?”

  My glare darkened. “If you won’t take this seriously, then take me back to Calicto.”

  “Where you’ll be shot dead before you leave the dock.” He closed the bag and hid it beneath the counter again. “You’ve been alone a long time, Kesh Lasota. You don’t need to be alone any longer. Tell me what you’re running from. Let me help you.”

  What was I running from? Another life, another girl, just like me. She lived in my memories and in Sota’s databanks. She was a slave, a killer, a hero to a people that weren’t hers. She was everything Kesh Lasota was not.

  I swallowed and touched the ghost of an old scar on my neck, long ago surgically removed. “The fae aren’t gone.” Just saying the words felt like laying land mines. Like any second, the truth would explode, killing me, the past, and the marshal too.

  The marshal was no longer laughing. The beast behind his glare stirred, lifting the fine hairs on the back of my neck. A flicker of fear darted through my chest, tightening old instincts. My whip was close, but so was Kellee.

  “I know,” he said, grinding out the words. “That’s why I’m helping you.”

  Chapter 9

  I told Kellee about the message, about Sota’s eighteen seconds, about the fae I’d failed to chase down. He listened without interrupting. I told him about Larson, about Arcon, and about Merry. The more I told him, the more I wanted to spill all my secrets to this man I hardly knew. But some secrets were too dangerous to spill.

  When I was done, hours had passed and my voice had grown hoarse. Marshal Kellee now knew everything there was to know about the messenger, Kesh Lasota.

  He poured two drinks and set them down on the table between us. The apartment lights were still dimmed, and from outside, the occasional flare of light would wash across us both, highlighting Kellee’s thoughtful expression.

  I picked up my glass, folded my legs under me on the couch opposite the marshal’s and waited for him to say something. I didn’t even care about the silence. I liked it, in fact. Air filters hummed. There was no clanging or groaning from stacked containers. No shouts from too-close neighbors. For the first time in a long time, I almost felt safe. Almost. But a very real and obvious threat existed here. The marshal. I’d told him what he’d wanted to know. Now all I had to do was wait and see what he did with that information, what he did with me.

  He leaned forward and picked up his drink, but he saw me watching and lowered the glass. “Crater met with a marshal from my station. A day later, Crater’s dead.” Now he took a drink, downing the contents in one. “The marshal he met with is missing.”

  “You think Crater implicated Arcon in something?”

  He swallowed. “There have been other… events during the past year. Marshals quitting for no reason. Some out of character incidents… I don’t know who to trust.”

  I knew exactly how he felt. “But what made you think any of this was fae related?”

  “You mean besides the rifle, which is clearly modified for fae use?” He leaned back and stared into the middle distance, perhaps seeing the past in the room with us. “I told you I wasn’t always a marshal. I did some mercenary work. And before that…” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Let’s just say you and I have more in common than you would believe.”

  I doubted that. If he knew who/what I was, he’d probably kill me without blinking—or try to.

  “There’s someone who can help us. I think… Well, he’s…” Kellee winced. Something in those memories was obviously unpleasant. “He’s a fae expert. If we tell him what we know, he’ll tell us whether it’s possible. Might even help us…”

  “Help us do what exactly?”

  “Stop them.”

  “I… I just want Sota back.” I took a drink to moisten my suddenly dry mouth. Stop the fae? No. One messenger and a marshal wouldn’t be enough to stop them—if they planned on returning.

  “I figured you were many things, but not a coward.” He smiled, testing me.

  If he meant his accusation to hurt, he had me all wrong. “I’m just a messenger. What can I do? If you want to get yourself killed, go right ahead.”

  “Just a messenger?” He stood, set his drink down and retrieved his coat. “Right. Of course you are. A messenger who escaped a warfae and carries a magic-enhanced whip. That’s not all you are, is it…?” He collected my coat and stood over me, holding the coat out. “But sure, I’ll play along with your little fantasy—for now.”

  Fantasy? I snatched my coat and tugged it on. “Where are we going?”

  “To get answers.”

  A black rock loomed in the shuttle window, growing larger by the second, until it swamped the screen, blotting out everything else. Up close, it glittered with antennae and surveillance masts. We approached a beam jutting from the surface—the dock.

  “What is that place?” I asked.

  Kellee adjusted the shuttle, keeping us level with a line of green indicator buoys.

  “A prison.”

  The rock had to be at least fifty miles across and just as deep. Kellee had told me this place didn’t appear on any official chart. Looking at the barren, isolated rock, I asked myself what crimes someone would have to commit to be sent here. “How many people do they keep in there?”

  “One.”

  One?! “All that prison for one prisoner?”

  “Yeah…” Kellee adjusted the shuttle’s flight, bringing us closer to the dock’s mouth.

  “And this one prisoner is your source?” I tried and failed to keep the alarm out of my voice.

  “I didn’t say it would be easy to get answers.”

  Once we had docked, Kellee flashed his badge and guards waved us into the narrow rock-lined tunnels. The marshal asked that we not walk through the scanners, and reluctantly, after a few v-coins changed hands, he
got his wish. He chatted with them, all small talk and easy smiles. Everyone recognized Marshal Kellee.

  Finally, after our confusing parade of small talk between chamber after chamber, we were escorted into an enormous space. The heavy door clanged shut, sealing us inside a chamber so big the glow from the lights didn’t touch the walls. Every boot scuff or rustle of clothing was eaten by the emptiness.

  At the cavern’s center, lit from all corners by powerful floodlights, stood a container-sized, metal-lined glass cage. And inside, head bowed, long, fine silvery hair spilling over one shoulder, stood a male fae. I froze, boots glued to the floor. A thousand memories came crashing in. He looked exactly the way I remembered the fae to be. He even wore the tan leather garments of most scouts, cladding his body from neck to toe. They didn’t wear armor, relying instead on speed and agility to outmaneuver their enemies. It made them vulnerable up close—but only if you survived getting within melee range. But this one didn’t look vulnerable.

  Kellee approached the glass and metal-framed wall.

  It’s not enough. The cage, this prison… not enough.

  The security, the isolation, the whole damn rock—it wasn’t enough to hold him. And yet there he was. Trapped.

  Slowly, he lifted his head. Violet eyes shone from behind his silvery bangs. “Hello, Marshal.”

  The voice was everything I loathed. Honey and silk, a sweetness so seductive it hurt to hear it. Instincts clawed at me to run. To run and keep on running to the far corners of the three systems. But another part of me, a stronger, defiant part, wanted to move closer, to hear that voice again, to let his luscious tone wash over me, through me. I measured my breathing—slowly in, slowly out—and calmed my thoughts. This was his prison. Not mine.

  “Talen,” Kellee greeted. He stopped a foot from the glass and tucked both hands casually into his pockets, his demeanor that of someone who had dropped by to visit an old friend.