by Shéa MacLeod
On top of that, we still didn’t know who’d ordered the hit on me, or why. It certainly hadn’t been Alberich. It had been much too cold and calculated for him.
The good news was that the junky kid, Mikey, had kept his promise and rung the number on the card I’d given him. There was hope for him yet.
Trevor pulled up to the second checkpoint and handed over his government ID and my passport. The young soldier waved us through to the grim concrete buildings beyond.
“Welcome to Area 51.” Trevor flashed me a grin.
“I can’t believe I’m actually here.” It was a little disappointing, to be honest. I’d imagined … I don’t know what. Alien space ships, maybe? “It’s all so … normal.” Or as normal as a military base ever got.
“What did you expect? Little green men?” Trevor laughed.
“Oh, excuse me. It’s okay to believe in demons and vampires, but not aliens?”
“We’ve got enough crazy on this earth without worrying about crazies from other planets.”
He made an excellent point.
About an hour later we were finally sitting across from the reason we were there: Jade Vincent. Former dragon Hunter and full time crazy person. Also, Alister Jones’s secret weapon. And she wanted to talk.
Orange wasn’t her color. Or maybe it was the lighting. She looked washed out and skinnier than I remembered, though her hair was still the same defiantly spiky, platinum blond.
“Okay, Dara. We’re here.” Dara Boyd was her real name, after all. I hoped it would remind her of who she was before she became a Hunter.
She didn’t so much as move a muscle.
I sighed. “Fine. Jade. You wanted to speak to me. Speak.”
“I have something for you.”
I blinked. “For me?”
She took a crumpled envelope from inside her jumper and slid it across the table. The expression on her face could only be described as mocking.
I glanced down at the envelope and my heart stopped. I recognized the crest. It was the crest of the Jones family. I’d seen it in Alister’s office back in England.
“How did you get this?”
She ignored me. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair, the chains around her wrists clanking. I knew without a doubt she wasn’t going to answer me or anyone else.
Trevor nodded to the guards who grabbed Jade and hauled her back down the hall, presumably to her cage. Frankly, I hoped she’d rot there.
“What’s in the envelope?”
I stared down at the thing lying on the table like it might bite me. Slowly, I opened the flap and pulled out a single piece of vellum. Scrawled across the creamy sheet was a single line of unfamiliar handwriting:
Tick tock, little Hunter.
###
A Bonus Short Story
Let’s Ride
“Approaching Omicron 5, Captain.”
“The Chancellor knows we’re here?”
“He has been notified and sends his greetings for a Happy Solstice. We are allowed free rein as long as we …” Audley shot a hesitant glance at the Captain.
The Captain’s eyebrow inched toward her hairline. Her expression spoke volumes. None of them good. “As long as we what?”
Audley swallowed back a laugh, hiding his smile behind a fall of dreadlocks. Somebody was about to get his, or her, ass handed to them. “As long as we’re subtle, sir.”
A slow grin spread across the Captain’s face. “Oh, I’m always subtle, Audley.”
* * *
The spaceport on O5 was pretty much like any other planet-side spaceport outside the home galaxy. A couple of landing pads sat in the middle of a dust-bowl of a plain, a shanty town sprung up around them.
Captain Zala Lei had spent more than her fair share of time in such places over the last few years. Figured she’d been spending this year’s Solstice in another.
A hawker with half-rotted teeth shoved some kind of dead carcass at her. “Turk-bird for the lady’s Solstice table?”
Her nose wrinkled. “Get that thing out of my face.” She kept her voice calm, but with a thread of steel underneath. Starship Captains didn’t snarl like hawkers’ wives. They glowered and made idiots mess their pants with the sheer power of their voices.
Obviously the hawker hadn’t gotten the memo. The stench of his breath wafted straight up Zala’s nose as he leaned in just a little too friendly-like. “I’m sure the lady’s husband would be pleased if she brought home such a feast for his pleasure.”
That tore it.
In one move she slammed the hawker against the side of the nearest building, her forearm against his throat. He gasped for air, struggling against her powerful hold, but the scrawny hawker was no match for the brain implants of a Syndicate Captain.
“Listen you piece of trash,” she snarled. “The last thing I’m interested in is cooking for some pathetic man. I’m here to do a job and you are in my way. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll find yourself half-way across the planet and real quick-like. Feel me?”
The hawker nodded so hard his dented bowler hat tumbled off his head, leaving the long, greasy strands of his hair to whip about in the wind. Zala snarled. Planet dwellers could just be so …unhygienic.
She let the man sink to the ground. “And by the way, you can call me Captain.”
She took certain satisfaction in watching the blood drain from the man’s face. Insulting a Syndicate Captain meant Instant Erasure, if the Captain so desired. Some called Zala soft, but frankly she’d never seen the point in killing someone simply because they pissed her off. A lot more fun to toy with them. Sometimes watching a grown man wet his pants was the highlight of her day. Especially chauvinist dogs like the hawker.
Without a second glance, she strode down the street toward the designated meeting place. It was time to focus. She had a job to do.
* * *
Zala sank into the chair opposite her contact. He was a middle-aged man. Weathered and ragged. He could easily pass for a local. A farmer, maybe. In fact, he was something far more deadly: A Syndicate spy.
She tugged her own battered cloak around her self-consciously. She was glad Audley had made her wear it, otherwise she’d have stuck out like a sore thumb. The last thing she needed was to get demoted for exposing one of the Syndicate’s golden boys.
“Where’s your Rider?” the man asked.
She gave him a weak smile. “I’m it.”
He looked her up and down. “You’re not a Rider. You’re a Captain.”
Rider’s were like the circuit judges of the old-Earth West, travelling from planet to planet administering justice and sometimes punishment.
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
He snorted. “Maybe on a small ship, but you’re a Lei.” He nodded to the tattoo half hidden by her sleek, midnight-blue hair. “I recognize the sigil.”
Zala barely resisted touching her right temple. Each highborn family had a specific sigil which was tattooed on their children at birth. As the child grew it was added to and embellished until he or she reached majority. Zala’s began at her right temple and curled up and over her right eye. It was subtle and beautiful, but she still kept her bangs long to hide the mark.
“Well, I run a small ship.”
He whistled. “Who’d you piss off?”
She gritted her teeth. How dare he question her? Still, she swallowed her pride. Men like him were outside Syndicate hierarchy.
“Did you find what I came for?” she changed the subject.
He nodded. “Yep. Got it all ready for you.”
“Great. I’d like to get it on my ship as soon as possible.”
“You know,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Finding and delivering such… parcels is usually a Rider’s job, not mine.”
“And I appreciate the favor.”
The smile that quirked his thin lips was not a pleasant one. “I don’t do favors free. I think the House Lei is going to
owe me one.”
That did it. In a flash she was around the table, her hand against the side of his throat. To anyone looking it would appear as though she were flirting with him, caressing him. In actuality, she knew very well he could feel the prick of the hypo against his neck. Not that she needed it. She could have snapped his neck like a twig, but that would bring questions.
“One wrong move and I flood your system with ventris. You’ll be dead in seconds, but those seconds will be filled with so much agony, you’ll be glad to die.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, I would. You may be outside the Laws of Hierarchy, but I am a Lei. We created those laws.” She smiled a little at the smell of his fear. She wondered when such a man as he was had last been afraid. “Besides, ventris is completely untraceable. They would assume you’d died of a heart attack.”
He swallowed. “Fine. The package is yours. No favor owed.”
“Good. Now where do I find the package?”
“Out back. A crate in the shed. It’s marked.” Sweat glistened on his brow. “Now would you get that thing away from me?”
She leaned down, her breath a whisper in his ear. “The Syndicate thanks you for your service, Thomas Jaquinus.”
“How did you know my name? Oh, shi… “
But he had no time to finish the word as the needle plunged into the side of his neck, sending the poison shooting into his veins. He was dead in seconds.
* * *
“Dang, that’s one heavy-ass box. What’s in that thing?” Audley collapsed on top of said box and fanned himself with a bright red handkerchief.
Zala smiled. “Something important to our future.”
Audley quirked a brow at that. “Care to explain, sir?”
“Soon. For now, get this crate airborn. I want to be as far away from Omicron 5 as possible. And fast.”
“Oh, crap. Who’d you piss off now?”
Zala crossed her arms and tapped her foot. Not a very Captainly move, but she and Audley went back a long way. He didn’t respect her even when she was in full captain mode, so there was no point worrying about her image being tarnished.
“Fine,” he raised his hands in mock surrender, a laugh teasing the corners of his mouth. “I’ll get this rust bucket in the air. You think we’re going to have any problems?”
“I hope not.” If they did, there’d be hell to pay. She might be a scion of House Lei, but that wouldn’t save her from a court martial.
Audley wandered off to the bridge mumbling about cluster-fraks. Zala couldn’t exactly disagree with that one. She was taking a huge chance, but as far as she was concerned the ends justified the means.
And those means were in the box sitting in her cargo bay. “You better be worth it,” she said softly to the box before following Audley to the bridge.
* * *
Fortunately the Chancellor of Omicron 5 had sent them on their way with a cheery, “Merry Solstice.” Zala got the feeling he was glad to be rid of them. Not every world welcomed the Syndicate Riders with open arms.
“You know today is supposed to be a holiday, right, Captain? I’m pretty sure my contract states I get today off.” Audley had pulled out a peppermint stick from goddess knew where and was sucking away at the thing totally against regulations.
“Aud, you don’t have a contract.”
“Oh, right. “ He turned back to the viewscreen for a moment before whirling around to face her again. “Still, we should do something special. You know, to celebrate the day.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged. “I dunno. Cook something?”
“It’s not like I have a Solstice goose in the galley. We’re on flight rations.”
The Syndicate didn’t waste money on good food for a lowly bit of space junk like them. Not even for Solstice. Not even if one of them was a Lei.
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do for Solstice. You fly the damn ship and I’ll go open that box in the cargo bay.”
“You are no fun.” Audley pulled a Santa hat out of one of the many pockets on his flight pants and yanked it down over his dreads. “I, for one, am getting into the Solstice spirit.” He punched a button and old-Earth Christmas music spilled from the ship-wide intercom.
Zala barely restrained a groan. If this kept up she was going to need earplugs. “You know. With my implants I could kill you with my brain.”
Audley didn’t turn around. Instead, he stuck up his middle finger and waved it around.
On any other ship it would have gotten him shot. Zala just laughed and headed for the cargo bay.
* * *
The box wasn’t as easy to open as she’d first thought. The outside was a simple wooden construction easily demolished. Inside? Not so much.
It was some kind of stasis box. She’d seen the Syndicate use similar boxes to transport high-risk clients between planets. Those boxes were big and luxurious in comparison.
Her fingers danced over the compu-pad on the side of the stasis box. She hadn’t had time to get the security code from Jaquinus, but House Lei had its own codes. Codes that opened pretty much anything.
She punched in her code. Nothing.
A frown creased Zala’s brow. There was one person whose code could open the box. A smile replaced the frown. Her mother would have a fit if she knew Zala not only had the precious master code of House Lei, but was about to use it for something very underhanded. She dredged up the memory of her mother’s delicate fingers flying over a code pad and punched in the new code. There was a pause, then the light on the box turned green.
Zala took a step back as the lid on the stasis box swung open. She waited patiently for the person inside to wake up.
“What the hell are you wearing?” She couldn’t help it. Despite her training, Zala had led a fairly insular life before joining the Riders. And since the Riders, most of the worlds she’d been assigned to had been surprisingly conservative for the twenty-second century. She’d never seen anything like the person stepping out of that stasis box.
The man, it was definitely a man, smoothed his hands down the sides of his outfit before giving her a baffled look. “Who are you?”
“Is that a dress?”
“Uh, yeah.” His voice was a smooth, throaty baritone. “Obviously. I was at a party.” As if that explained everything. “Now, who are you?”
Zala just gaped at him. The men of Hiberon were known for their fondness for kilts. The Islamites of New Mecca, both men and women, wore long, white robes. Trousers of any kind were forbidden on world. But what the man before her was wearing was nothing like that.
“You’re wearing a dress.” Not just any dress, but a shimmering red satin sheath dress. The kind she’d have killed for, but would have never had the courage to wear.
He narrowed his eyes and stepped out of the box. Zala’s eyes went straight to his feet. He was wearing a pair of high-heeled Mary Janes covered in sparkling crystals and sapphires. She’d never seen anything like them outside an old-Earth museum.
He glanced down at his shoes, then back up at Zala. “I had them specially designed. Gorgeous aren’t they? Now, who the hell are you and where the hell am I?” He propped his fists on hips and all but tapped his foot.
That did it. Zala drew back her shoulders, body slamming to attention. “I am Captain Zala Lei of the starship Justice.”
One perfectly groomed eyebrow went up. “This is a Rider ship?”
“Yes.”
His jaw hardened. “On what charge?”
“What?”
“On what charge are you arresting me?”
Zala blinked. “Um. No charge.”
“Excuse me?” He strode across the room, his heels making a sharp click against the steel plates of the cargo bay. He paused inches away from her.
Zala licked her lips and desperately resisted the blush that threatened to flood her fair skin. His nearness unnerved her. She was used to being surrounded by slight men with soft voices, groomed from birth as
the ultimate gentleman. Despite wearing a dress and fraking glittery high heels, the man in front of her was probably one of the most masculine men she’d ever seen in her life.
She swallowed hard. “I said, you’re not under arrest.”
“Then why did one of your spy goons inject me and stick me in that box? You know as well as I do the Syndicate would like nothing more than to put me away for good.”
He was right about that. Luckily for him, the Syndicate didn’t know that the most wanted “terrorist” in the galaxy was the man standing before her in a sexy cocktail dress and glittery heels. Holy hell.
“Because I needed to get to you before the Syndicate did. I need your help.”
That got him. “My help?”
“Yeah. I’ll tell you all about it in my quarters. By the way, do you have a name?” She knew who he was, or rather, what he was, but no one knew his name. Even the Syndicate spy hadn’t figured out that one.
“You can call me Xander.”
“Xander.” She rolled the name around on her tongue. Double sexy. Then she felt like smacking herself upside the head. One job. She needed him for one job. That was it. “Do you want to change first? Audley’s bigger than you, but I’m sure something of his will work.”
“Why would I want to change? I’m perfectly comfortable.”
“In a cocktail dress?”
He shrugged. “You’re wearing pants.”
He had her there. She suddenly realized how ridiculous it all was. Who cared what he was wearing? “What about the heels? Don’t your feet hurt?”
Her mother was constantly roping her into stupid balls and such. Even a lowly scion of House Lei had to doll up on such occasions which meant cramming her feet into heels so high she was nearly crippled.
“Honey,” he said with a grin, “I brought down House Lodai in a pair of four-inch heels. I think I’ll be fine.”
* * *
“You seriously want me to murder Santa Claus?”
Zala could understand the incredulity in Xander’s voice. Only a few worlds still celebrated Christmas. Most of them had switched to a sort of Christmas/Yule/Hanukkah mash-up they collectively called Solstice. Still, Santa Claus was universally loved. He just flew a spaceship now instead of a sleigh with reindeer.