Word and Breath (Wordless Chronicles)

by Susannah Noel

  Most of the bystanders fled in the opposite direction, so Mikel was able to run out into the Square and look to his right. It took only a moment for his keen eyes to spot the shooter, in the window of an apartment building, a few blocks away.

  More shots. A man fell—an accidental casualty, Mikel assumed. Then he saw Riana, half-supporting a bloody Talon, pull away from the momentum of the crowd and start moving across the street.

  Riana looked stunned and terrified, as far as Mikel could see. Although he couldn’t see much since Talon was blocking his view.

  The noble fool must be trying to protect her, obstructing the sniper’s line of sight. It wasn’t a move that would necessarily work with a good sniper, since the shooter’s location was elevated. But still… They were moving, and the sniper wouldn’t have time to line up accurate shots.

  Mikel wasn’t affected by the pandemonium around him. He wasn’t infected by hysteria, and he wasn’t particularly afraid for his life.

  He was torn, though. He wanted to go help Riana, but he wasn’t sure he should.

  And he couldn’t for the life of him understand why anyone would be trying to kill her.

  The Union wanted her alive. She was no good to anybody dead.

  Before he could decide what to do, the decision was taken out of his hands.

  Talon took a shot in the middle of the back. No way he could survive it.

  Remarkable. The man had just killed himself to keep Riana alive.

  Mikel hadn’t thought people were willing to do that anymore—not give up their lives for someone else.

  He started running toward Riana instinctively as he saw her face go white with disbelief. She let the poor fool’s body fall like a dropped marionette.

  Then she took off at a sprint for the alley in front of her.

  Mikel kept running, and he saw another man heading toward Riana. Something in his purposeful direction clued Mikel in. Perhaps someone else with the Front—running after Riana to lead her away.

  Cutting the man off, Mikel reached out and efficiently knocked him unconscious with a hand to the neck. He didn’t particularly want any of this man’s spirit, but he couldn’t allow the man to give Riana another out.

  Mikel couldn’t let Riana go back underground. She needed to be with him.

  Without breaking his stride, Mikel veered off into a different alley. He could only guess where Riana might end up, but primitive instinct nearly always led a frighten creature to run for home.

  She wasn’t far from her street. That was probably where she would flee.

  So Mikel bolted down the adjacent alley at a dead run. He needed to get there first.

  The alley he had chosen put him a little closer to the block her loft was on, so he made it there before her. He was breathless and perspiring a little, but he composed himself quickly so he would look basically normal as he stood in front of the coffee shop Riana had found him in the day before.

  When he saw her burst out of the alley, stumbling a little as she turned in his direction, he reached out for the door of the shop, as if he were about to go in.

  It was a risk. Would look like an unlikely coincidence. But he needed to catch up with Riana, and he couldn’t let her know he’d been following her.

  He heard Riana give a sob as she must have seen and recognized him. “Mikel!”

  He turned and let her throw herself into his arms.

  He felt weird—tense and awkward—as she sobbed and shook against his chest for a minute.

  Almost guilty, if he remembered that particular feeling correctly.

  For whatever reason, he felt like an ass as he stroked her back, making a tentative gesture at comforting her.

  Her brokenness was heart-wrenching, and he was tempted to open a connection so he could relieve some of her devastation. He didn’t, though, carefully avoiding touching any bare skin.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling himself together enough to remember he wasn’t supposed to know what had gotten her into this state. “What happened?”

  “They tried to…to kill...” She could barely get the words out. Her face was smeared with tears, and her eyes were huge and tragic. “And Jenson! Oh no, no!” She broke down again, obviously struggling to stifle her sobs.

  Mikel scanned the block quickly to make sure no one was approaching—Union officials or other members of the Front. It all looked normal, so he took Riana’s face in his hands, careful to hold back a connection. “I don’t understand. Someone tried to kill you?”

  “Yes! Un—Union. And they killed—” She gasped, looking around frantically at the other people on the sidewalk. “I need to hide,” she mumbled. “I can’t—”

  It was exactly what Mikel had been waiting for. “Why don’t you come to my place?” he asked, dropping his hands so he wouldn’t accidentally connect with her. “I’m just down a few blocks. You can get your composure and then figure out what you should do.”

  To his relief, she didn’t even try to argue. In fact, some of the anxiety on her face eased as if all she wanted was for someone to tell her what to do.

  It was a natural reaction. She was in shock. She wouldn’t be up to making hard decisions for a little while.

  And he’d just taken advantage of it.

  It made him feel even more like an ass.

  He headed back to the apartment he was borrowing for this job, less than a mile away. He let Riana cling to his arm, and he occasionally murmured soothing things to her.

  When they got there, Riana huddled on the corner of the couch while Mikel went to make her some coffee. He dumped a few tablespoons of sugar into it and brought it to her.

  “Drink it,” he instructed, sitting down beside her on the couch.

  She took a sip and made a face. “Too sweet.” Her hands were shaking as she held the mug.

  “Drink it anyway.”

  He watched her as she drank the coffee and was relieved when the color started to return to her face.

  When she’d finished most of it, she set the mug on the coffee table. Then she stared down at her twisting hands in her lap.

  For some reason, his chest ached at how broken she looked. “Riana,” he said, surprised by the thickness of his voice.

  She gazed at him, visibly shaking.

  “Come here,” he murmured, stretching out an arm and pulling her against his side. She burrowed into him, and he held her close.

  He wasn’t feeling like himself at all. The pressure in his chest intensified, and he had to struggle against the urge to open a connection with her so he could make her feel better.

  He needed her to feel better.

  Her body was soft and small and warm against his, and he tightened his arms around her until she finally stopped shaking.

  He didn’t comfort people this way. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d given a platonic embrace of any kind. Empathy and generosity had simply never been part of his nature.

  He had no idea why he was indulging in them now, but they were dangerous. He should stop.

  He heard her breathing slow down. Felt her tension relax a little. She still didn’t pull away from him.

  He pulled away instead, dropping his arms and edging back a few inches. If he didn’t, he would end up doing something utterly wrong, something completely at odds with his job here.

  “Do you think you’re ready to tell me about it yet?” he asked.

  Riana took a ragged breath and nodded.

  Before she could begin, Mikel’s phone rang. He wouldn’t have bothered answering it, but he recognized the ring.

  Largan. If he didn’t answer, he would be suspected of some involvement—no matter how irrational such a theory was.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’ll be right back.”

  He picked up the phone and went into the back room, listening to Largan’s urgent questioning.

  When he could get a word in, Mikel said calmly, “Stop yelling. Raging at me isn’t going to do any good. I’ll let you know
if I hear anything. But I haven’t seen her, and I have no idea where she might be.”

  ***

  “Where is she?” Largan raged to the room at large. “We have the finest military and police force ever assembled in the civilized world! How can we not find one untrained, injured woman?”

  Nobody was fool enough to answer.

  The room buzzed with activity, as dozens of people talked on the phone and did frenzied research in an attempt to find Riana Cole. After the disaster in Canning Square today, her location was their number one priority.

  How could this have happened? Who would have tried to kill the girl?

  Whoever it was had almost succeeded.

  Largan strode over to the young man he’d ordered five minutes ago to get details on the shooting. “What did you find out?”

  “It was a long-range rifle. Military issue. He was stationed in an apartment building a few blocks from the square. They think he was professionally trained.”

  “Military?” Largan repeated, his voice rising again in his frustration. “Are you saying a member of our military did this?”

  “I don’t know, sir,” the young man replied, visibly cowering before Largan’s rage. “I’m just repeating what was told to me by the investigators.”

  Largan turned away abruptly, tired of talking to this idiot. At a familiar, banging noise, he noticed there were workers in the far corner. They’d torn a hole in the wall, working on the wiring or plumbing or some such nonsense. Why they couldn’t manage to keep this building together was beyond him. “Stop that banging! We’re trying to work in here.”

  The noise from the construction workers ceased immediately. It provided Largan a brief sense of relief, and he didn’t even care if he was being unreasonable.

  Then Largan spotted Smyde standing next to the door of the main office.

  “Over here,” Largan ordered. “Do you have information for me?”

  “No, sir. I closed down the office for the afternoon. There was no sense in trying to get work out of the Readers after what happened. I just came over to offer my assistance, if I can be of any.”

  Largan grunted, as much of a thank-you as he was capable of at the moment. “Any ideas?”

  “I assume this wasn’t a sanctioned Union shooting?”

  “No, it wasn’t! We needed Riana Cole alive. And now Talon is dead, and he would have been useful.”

  Smyde twisted his lips. “A traitor?”

  “A suspected traitor, but one we knew about. And he was one of the few Readers left who know the Old Language. He was valuable to us.”

  Shrugging, Smyde muttered, “The Old Language is too dangerous to use for any reason. We can do without Talon. Any word on Riana’s whereabouts?”

  “No!” The bellow caused half the room to look up and the other half to hunker down and hope it wasn’t directed at them. “She’s disappeared. I just called Mikel, but he hasn’t heard from her. He said he’d try to contact her and let us know what he finds out.”

  “She’ll probably go underground, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, but we need her available. What, by the living and dead, is going on here?”

  In the midst of his rage, something occurred to Largan then. Something that made his stomach drop sickeningly.

  Clenching his fist, he turned and stomped back to his office, leaving Smyde without a word of explanation.

  If he found out this catastrophe was carried out by another branch of the Union—in his city, without his being made aware of it—heads were going to roll in the capital.

  He took a few slow breaths to compose himself and then picked up his phone. When his assistant answered, he said, “I need to talk to the President’s Chief of Staff.”

  ***

  Canning Square was completely cordoned off for the official investigation of the shooting, so Connor wouldn’t have been able to look around, even if he’d been willing to take that risk.

  He mingled with the curious onlookers for a while, getting as clear a sight of the scene as he could with the official restrictions.

  But there wasn’t much use in hanging out here now anyway.

  Riana was long gone.

  And Jenson was...

  He hadn’t let himself even process that knowledge yet. There was too much going on. He was the leader of a movement that was slowly spiraling into chaos. Marina had been killed too. A traitor—although almost certainly pressured into it. He could only pray she hadn’t spilled any vital information before she died.

  And Riana was missing.

  He and Kelvin headed back toward Tava’s apartment, where a few of the other members of the Front had already gone.

  When he got there, he wished he hadn’t come. Tava was in tears.

  She’d cared for Jenson. Connor had always known it—even if Jenson had been oblivious.

  Tava’s face crumpled again as she saw Connor, and she came over to give and receive comfort.

  Connor gave the requisite hug, but he pulled away as soon as he could. He couldn’t break down, and it was easier not to think about it.

  There was something else that needed his attention now anyway.

  “Did she say anything last night?” Connor asked Tava. “Anything that might give us an idea about where she would go?”

  Tava wiped at her cheeks with her long fingers and sniffed a few times. “I don’t think so. She didn’t say much. But...” She trailed off and her face twisted again, as if the remembered conversation had hit her hard.

  “But what? Anything might be important.”

  “There was a man. She didn’t say who he was, but she admitted there was a man in her life. Someone she was interested in. Maybe she would have turned to him.”

  Connor almost didn’t feel the pang of jealousy—everything else churning inside him was too strong. “But she didn’t say who he was?”

  “No. I’m sorry.” Tava turned away, stifling her sobs, and Connor didn’t have the heart to press her anymore.

  “I don’t understand who would have tried to kill her. Why kidnap her sister if they were just going to shoot her?” Kelvin looked exhausted, almost dead on his feet.

  He’d been knocked out in the middle of the chaos—before he could tell Connor what happened. Kelvin couldn’t remember anything about who or what had knocked him out. The implications were frightening.

  Connor leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He’d been doing a lot of thinking over the last few hours, and there was only one conclusion that made any sense. “They wouldn’t.”

  He saw the eyes of others in the room turn to him, waiting for him to guide them, for him to tell them what to do. He didn’t want such pressure. He didn’t want the burden of dealing with his own needs as well as everyone else’s.

  He didn’t want to do this at all.

  He ignored the inner resistance and said bluntly, “We must be dealing with two different forces here. One wants to kill Riana. And one wants her for information.”

  “So why Riana? What’s so special about her?” Kelvin intended no insult by the question. It must be the same question everyone else had.

  Connor could give a million reasons why she was special to him. But only one reason why she’d be special to the rest of the world.

  Her grandfather, Marshall Cole, had been...significant.

  All he said was, “We’ll figure that out. But first we have to get her back.”

  Seven

  “Wow.”

  “I know,” Riana agreed, looking at Mikel’s handsome, slightly stunned face. “It sounds crazy. I still can’t believe it’s really happening.”

  She was seated on the couch in Mikel’s tidy apartment. The place wasn’t at all what she would have expected of him—it was generic and rather unlived in with neutral colors and a couple of boring landscapes on the walls. He probably didn’t spend much time here, though, and maybe he wasn’t interested in interior decorating.

  Riana was on her second cup of overly sweet coffee, and
Mikel was working on the wound on her arm. He’d had to cut off the sleeve of her blouse, and now he was cleaning and disinfecting the gash.

  It was superficial—just grazing the fleshy part of her upper arm—but it was more painful than she’d realized, now that she’d come out of her state of shock.