by C. G. Hatton
He laughed again.
NG didn’t move. ‘You’re awake when I’m asleep?’
‘For every minute of the past hundred and nineteen years. And yes, it is excruciatingly tedious.’
‘Why have you never told me before?’
‘About me? You think I haven’t? The Man always erased your memory. It got to be a boring game.’
It felt like his whole life had been a game. NG closed his eyes. He could sense the calm, strong presence that was the Chief but trying to get anything else from the mind of the big man sitting there right next to him made him feel like he was wading through treacle. It wasn’t that there was a barrier in place, simply that the effort was too much.
‘You’re pathetic.’
It felt pathetic.
‘He’s dying to tell you that Pen Halligan is dead.’
‘You’re lying.’
Sebastian laughed. ‘Ask him.’
He wasn’t sure he could ask anyone anything. He raised a hand to his neck, feeling the thick bandage there, swallowing painful, healing slow.
‘Go ahead,’ Sebastian jeered. ‘Ask him how he found out that Mendhel’s daughter shot her own dear uncle in the head.’
NG rolled onto his side and stared at the Chief, heart hammering in his chest. He couldn’t read anything from the guy.
The Chief said again quietly, “Hey.”
NG blinked slowly. “What happened to Pen?” he said in little more than a whisper.
If the Chief was surprised, he didn’t show it. “Pen’s dead, NG. We have no idea where Anya went but she’s with Zang, wherever that bastard crawled back to. Quinn wants to take a squad from Security and go after them but… when we heard about all this…” He trailed off and it was easy enough to see it was hard for him to continue. The Chief had always worked closely with Devon, both of them clashing regularly, but he would never have wished her harm. “We all wanted to know that you were okay before we decided what to do.”
There was something else that he wasn’t saying.
Sebastian sneered. ‘There’s a lot else that he isn’t saying. I thought you didn’t care. You quit.’
It wasn’t that easy. NG levered himself up onto one elbow. “I’m fine,” he lied.
The Chief nodded and stood. Guard duty over. “We’re here if you need anything,” he said and walked to the door, looking back with a half smile. “I’ll get you a coffee.”
NG wandered into the bathroom in a daze and stood under the hot water, stripping off the bandages and dropping as deep into concentration to heal as he could manage. It was hard to focus, energy reserves too low to make much difference. He gave up after a while, got cleaned up and sat on the edge of the bed, a thick white cotton towel wrapped around his waist.
‘This is not over,’ Sebastian whispered.
It was far from over.
He felt numb, heart pounding in a dull rhythm. He wound a fresh bandage around his arm. He desperately needed to talk to someone about something and he couldn’t pin his finger on who or what, until he realised with a pang that it was Devon and he’d never be able to.
‘You want to give up? Give me my body back. I’ll deal with these bastards.’
NG shook his head. He stood and walked to the dresser. His clothes had been cleaned, all traces of the smoke and blood gone, the black garb stacked in a neat pile. He absently picked up one of the guns lying there. It had been cleaned beautifully. He clicked out the magazine, noted vaguely that it was full and pushed it back into place. His knives were lying in a neat row.
He could remember every move, every kill. It had been him not Sebastian.
He dressed slowly. He had no idea what to do but he wasn’t about to give up. Devon had told him to finish it. “This is my fight,” he said softly and strapped on the weapons.
There were two guards outside his door, more down the hallway and double the usual on patrol around Arturo’s mountainside home. More than half were from the Alsatia’s specialist assault unit. He could just about sense them even though the awareness felt dull and muted.
The old man was sitting out on the terrace in the warm evening air, tiny lights sparkling throughout the rich green undergrowth, more guards a discrete distance away. He looked up and waved a welcome as NG approached.
NG sat down and accepted a glass of hot tea. He glanced around at the guards and looked back at Arturo. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
“Nonsense, my boy. Where else could you have gone? You’ve caused quite a stir.”
He took a sip of the tea. It was laced with apple brandy and burned his throat on its way down. “How long have I been out?”
Arturo smiled. “Six days. You won’t believe some of the rumours we’re hearing.”
He placed the glass on the table and stared at it, avoiding the old man’s eyes. He didn’t want to know.
“Is it true you cut out Farro’s heart and left it on a spike at the gatepost?”
The old man wasn’t teasing him. Christ.
NG rubbed a hand across his eye and looked up. “I didn’t,” he said.
Sebastian laughed.
“There are rumours that the Thieves’ Guild paid millions to hire a unit of handpicked mercenaries to do its dirty work in the middle of the night,” Arturo said softly. “People are also saying in some quarters that you sent a daemon to attack them, an immortal that was immune to all weapons. I take it you were alone?”
“They killed Devon.”
“I know,” Arturo said sadly and reached to pat his hand. “I liked her.”
They sat in silence for a while watching the moon rise over the mountaintops then Arturo waved over to his housekeeper for more tea. “The contract on you still stands,” he said as the girl poured from a jug of blue glass. She had a submachine gun slung over her shoulder. “They’ve sworn to have your head,” Arturo said. “I heard that some are saying they won’t even take payment now. You’ve embarrassed them. They want you dead.”
“They gave me directions and invited me in,” NG said bitterly.
“I’m sure Farro meant for you to spring their trap and die, not turn around and destroy him. He underestimated you, my friend. Do not return the compliment by underestimating them. The few that are left of Farro’s inner circle are calling in some hefty favours from influential people. Don’t you wonder who put that much money on your head?”
“I don’t care.”
“You care when they kill those closest to you.” Arturo leaned forward. “I’m sorry, my friend. I worry when I see our guild in such troubles. You must take care. It is not only the Assassins…”
NG looked up.
“There are some within the Imperial forces that question their tolerance towards us. Don’t rely on Jameson. His position is precarious after recent events. And I understand Ostraban is petitioning the guild to have you arraigned. We are caught between Earth and Winter and the friction is increasing. All this talk of war…”
NG toyed with his glass, feeling the heat dissipate. “Where’s the Chief?” he asked after a while, vaguely sensing that the big guy was in the house somewhere.
“Taking care of business,” Arturo said, nodding in that direction, and adding, “We’re safe now,” thinking that it had been touch and go for a while.
He sipped at the tea and sat back, the brandy beginning to warm the edges of that numb emptiness and clear some of the fog from his mind.
As he watched, two of the lights separated from the bustle of the city and began to bounce their way up the mountainside, disappearing and reappearing at intervals, stopping at the checkpoints then moving on up.
He glanced at Arturo.
The old man smiled fondly. “Your girls,” he said. “They’ve been waiting for you to wake. They were sending us to distraction with their pacing and worrying. I sent them shopping.”
‘Your girls?’ Sebastian laughed. ‘One of the galaxy’s most deadly assassins and a hard-ass mercenary bitch… and he sends them shopping?’
&
nbsp; NG frowned.
Arturo chuckled. “The Alsatia is in orbit. You didn’t think the guild would let you go that easily, did you?” He poured more tea, sitting back, content to let a comfortable silence settle between them. He was a good man. He knew his time here in this haven was nearing its end but he was totally satisfied with his lot in life. It was hard not to envy him his peace.
NG looked out over the forest. He couldn’t help scanning half-heartedly for his errant staff, too worn out to pick them out of the background buzz that was still fluttering around his mind. The lights stopped half way up the mountainside and he could imagine Evelyn and Martinez climbing the steep steps to the fortress.
“How much do they know?” he asked quietly.
The old man smiled wryly. “The Assassins have not been subtle in their outcry.” He looked up as if sensing a change in the air. “I fear we are in for a storm.” He had a look of sadness in his eyes. “There are a lot of people who are worried about you, Nikolai. A lot of people who care for you.”
“I know,” he said. He’d let people get close. That was his mistake. In all this, that was his biggest mistake.
Arturo leaned forward. “What are you going to do now?”
He wanted to run away. “I was thinking revenge on Zang,” he said flippantly.
“I was thinking more of you.”
NG felt his breath catch. He looked at his old acquaintance, realising with a pang that the old man knew more about him than just his real name.
“I’ve known you for a long time,” the old man said, solemnly. “Since I was a small boy. And in all that time, you haven’t changed.”
NG stared into the steaming concoction of sweet tea and brandy.
Arturo was one of only a select few people who’d known him for longer than a couple of decades. It was something the Man had been very careful in orchestrating his whole life. Arturo had never mentioned it before. They’d never talked about it, the paradox an unspoken secret between them.
“You look, what?” Arturo said gently. “Thirty, thirty five? I’ve known you since I was an eleven year old boy.” He reached out a hand and touched NG’s arm. “Look at me. I’m an old man and in all that time, you haven’t changed. What’s changed now, my friend?”
NG took a deep breath, calm and controlled. Sebastian was quiet, but an awkward unease settled across his chest like a weight.
He looked up at Arturo. “Everything’s changed,” he said quietly. He cradled the glass, breathing in the steam and looking out over the valley. The lights of the city below winked and glowed. In all the galaxy, this was his favourite bolt-hole. And it felt like its days were numbered.
“It was once said,” Arturo said, “that courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it.” His gaze was piercing. “Don’t give in to doubt.”
It was a warm and compassionate warning but it felt like the old man had torn down the façade and exposed his soul. NG felt hollow. His hand started to shake. He put the glass down carefully, fighting the urge to throw it to the floor. He could almost hear it smashing, see the shards splintering in slow motion in every direction, as he felt so close to falling apart himself. He had a million questions and no one he could ask.
“Whatever has brought you to this, you need to bring it to an end,” Arturo said, resting a hand on his arm. “Exorcise your daemons and then come back to us. The guild needs you.”
‘We don’t need anyone and the Man lied to you,’ Sebastian whispered maliciously.
‘Did he lie to me about everything? Are the damned aliens even real?’
Maybe William Gallagher was the key. Gallagher claimed to have been shot down by aliens in the Erica system. The Man had tagged the intel as high priority so maybe there was something to it.
‘It’s make-believe. The old fool was insane.’
He wasn’t so sure. Maybe that’s what he needed to do. Nothing would bring back Devon and nothing could ever make the guild feel like home again. It felt like he was clutching at straws but he had nothing else. Maybe he did need to prove to himself that it hadn’t all been a lie.
He looked up. “Do you know if the Alsatia has the freighter LC ended up on? We sent people out to bring it in.”
“From Tortuga?” Arturo shook his head. “None of our negotiators have had any luck even finding that freighter.” Guild negotiators never failed in any assignment. No arrogance in that, it was a simple fact. “What’s so special about it?”
“Loose ends,” he said vaguely. “But that’s what I need to do. I have to find that freighter. It’s all I’ve got.”
Arturo leaned forward. “Then that is what you must do. Whatever it takes, Nikolai. Do whatever it takes and come home to us.” He stood, gently clasping a hand to NG’s shoulder. “I’ll send the Chief out,” he said, waved over for a fresh jug of tea and left, heading into the house, cane tapping on the stone flags of the path.
NG sat quietly, watching the steam rise from his glass. He pulled out his gun and thumbed a round from the magazine. He balanced it upright on the table and stared at it. It fell over. That was the best he could do. Nothing as sophisticated as the slick movement the Man had demonstrated with the chess pieces. And nothing like he’d done on the Man’s ship before he’d quit. Nothing like the power he’d thrown out at the Assassins.
‘Use your anger,’ Sebastian murmured. ‘That seemed to work.’
He didn’t feel angry, he felt numb.
He holstered the gun, put the round into a pocket and stared at the table. He felt the Chief emerge from the house just as he sensed Evelyn and Martinez walk into the grounds. The three of them were directed by the guards to the terrace, picking up their pace as they walked along the winding overgrown path. They turned a corner and saw him there, a rush of overwhelming emotion emanating from Evelyn. NG stood.
‘It’s all so touching,’ Sebastian mocked.
She hesitated, staring, relief at seeing him in one piece overshadowed by her grief and a barely contained anger.
She paused then gathered herself. She walked up to meet him, standing stiffly, awkwardly, turmoil flashing behind her eyes. He thought she was going to report but she suddenly stepped forward, in close.
He reacted without thinking, tensing, a defensive blast of energy flaring through the fog that was overriding his mind. He felt the Chief and Martinez twitch, hands instinctively reaching for guns.
Evelyn flung her arms around him.
He caught the intention in time, nothing but an intense need to hold him tight, and stopped himself, shaking as the energy he’d been about to throw at her dissipated. Christ. He could have killed her.
‘You should have killed her.’
NG forced himself to relax. He put his arms around her and gestured Martinez and the Chief to stand down. Evie was trembling, the desperate embrace the most physical contact they’d ever had. He squeezed almost violently and whispered in her ear, “Don’t – ever – do that again.”
She froze. Misunderstanding. Realising how inappropriate it was and flushing. No idea how close to danger she’d come. She tried to pull away but he didn’t let her, holding her tightly, a hand on the back of her neck, calming her as much as he could manage.
The trembling started to ease, replaced with a deep down unbearable ache of loss. Devon hadn’t just been her mentor, she’d been her confidante and her friend and the sudden loss had broken down the professional veneer that Evelyn was always so careful to maintain. It was too much to deal with and wasn’t somewhere he was prepared to go. He tempered the emotion, taking out the heat and felt her respond, bottling it back up, fiercely fixing her resolve.
He whispered in her ear, “We deal with it and we move on. They paid, heavily. It’s done. Okay?”
She tensed then nodded and he let her go.
They sat, emotions once again wrapped up and buried deep, and watched as Martinez poured tea.
They’d all heard the rumours, taken in the bandage on his arm, the bruises, the angry red lin
e across his throat, and they were avoiding looking directly at him.
“Are you coming back?” Evelyn said quietly, almost confrontational, almost daring him to say no.
“No,” he said.
The three of them swapped glances, awkward. Martinez dropped her gaze to the table, scratching a chewed fingernail along the grain of the wood.
NG stared at Evelyn, reading the helpless frustration, not wanting to even attempt to go any deeper. “What’s happened?”
“Micah Sorensen’s dead,” she said. “NG, we need you to come back.”
Chapter 23
“I heard reports that the Alsatia was headed to Earth. Was that not a risk?”
He was sharp in his reply. “Nikolai put Arturo in danger. That was not acceptable.”
The fire was getting low again.
“I’m sure it was not intentional.”
“Nevertheless, his reckless actions endangered one of my most valuable assets. Having the full force of the guild to hand was the only way to ensure the situation was completely under control.”
“And Nikolai? You sent them to make sure Nikolai was safe?”
The Man ignored her again, leaning to reach for another log, choosing two and carefully resting them in the centre of the hearth.
She regarded him, the orange of the fire flickering in her eyes. “He has had a lot thrown at him. It’s a good thing he has good people around him.”
•
Evelyn was staring at him, thinking, we’re missing Devon and we’re missing you, don’t do this to me, NG.
“What happened?” he said again.