Nite Fire: Flash Point

by C. L. Schneider

A kaleidoscope of color grew where there should be none. Dreamlike waves distorted and haloed the edges of my vision. I tried to clear my eyes, opening and closing them, fighting against the warped images. But my groggy, tangled thoughts coasted in and out. Sweat-matted hair draped my face as I fought to identify my surroundings.

  There were no buildings, no streets. No city. Night was done. Hours had passed. And somewhere, far away, one worried sidekick and one angry police detective were arguing over where I was and which one of them was responsible. In the meantime, I was pretty well fucked.

  Hard black soil was beneath me. Blistering sun beat down from above. Hazy, dancing tree-like shapes filled the distance. Beyond them, on the horizon, were gray blotches that I took for mountains. Closer, rows of fat broken trunks, jagged and gnarled, burst up from the dehydrated ground. Each weathered column supported a blurry manacled body—including mine.

  Legs folded beneath me, hands bound behind; both had lost sensation. My throat was sand-paper dry, making each shallow breath crack. Yet, despite the sweat on my skin, I was shivering. My own blood felt cold in my veins. It was an uncomfortable, yet familiar sensation—one that burned like a match through the fog in my mind. I was able to remember the tranquillizer darts pricking my skin, and I knew that what was in them was very much still in me, messing with my sight and my mind. Nageun venom.

  From experience, I knew I could shrug off the effects for a few minutes here and there. The disjointed vision and dizziness would come and go. But those were a damn lot of darts. It would be a while before I was in any shape to fight.

  Dismissing the strain on my neck, I turned my head to the right. My sight was swirling and undulating. It took a moment to identify the species of the figure secured beside me. It didn’t help that the naked male aswang was ancient and horribly gaunt. Olive green skin, normally slick and shiny, stretched like crumpled paper over protruding bones. Lash marks cut through both thighs. He was missing a wing and half the skin on his back. The female beside him was also severely emaciated. Her limp, bound body was slumped over like a cloth doll, with barely enough energy to open her sunken eyes.

  Whatever creature had once been on the other side of her, I couldn’t say. All that remained was a puddle of yellow mucus, blood, and a few clumps of fur.

  There were more dead trunks. More bodies tied to them. My eyesight was too compromised to reason their species or gender. Trying only made my head pound, so I turned the other direction.

  The prisoner to my left was in better shape, though his features were skewed by numerous colorful contusions. His shirt was equally blood-soaked and torn, but I’d seen him that way enough to look past the swelling and the gore. I was more unnerved that my venom-hampered mind hadn’t thought to look for him sooner. “Ronan?”

  His split lips jerked in a brief grin. “This wasn’t how I thought last night would end.”

  I grunted, but I was less surprised. Being around Ronan always seemed to end with me getting screwed in some fashion. Usually, the consequences were embarrassing but manageable; a hangover, a couple of weeks of mental self-flagellation. Getting ambushed, abducted, and filled with so much venom, the message to shift wouldn’t leave my brain to push out a single scale, was definitely a first.

  “We’re home,” he said, voicing what I’d already figured out. He strained, trying to break his bonds, and the venom made me think his body was bending and curving in grotesque impossible ways. I closed my eyes briefly, blocking out the nausea-inducing distortions.

  Sliding my legs out from under me, I sat back on the hard ground. The iron cuffs around my wrists were heavy. I could barely lift my arms. The tree trunk they were wrapped around behind me provided some hope. It was thick and tall, but it was pressed up against my back, close enough that I could smell the decaying bark. If I could snap the dead trunk, I could slide my arms free.

  I looked over at Ronan. “Can you shift anything?”

  His tangled brown hair swayed as he shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “Well, this was inventive. I’ll give her that.”

  “Tranking us wasn’t a stroke of genius, Dahl. Most operatives carry treated weapons now.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since human science taught the Guild how to manipulate the venom. The nageun are almost as important to the elders now as we are. Their population is near to surpassing ours.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “What does it matter? We’re dead anyway.”

  “So you’re just going to sit and wait to die? Wait for your baby momma to come back and work out some more of her abandonment issues on your face?”

  “Yours doesn’t look much better.”

  “Which is why I want to get the hell out of here.”

  His swollen eyes crinkled. “At least we were unconscious for the first round.”

  I gave him a glare and a flat, cheerless, “Go us. Unfortunately, that’s not a lucky streak I see continuing, so…” Planting my feet, I pushed back against the trunk. Its roots were deep. The ground holding them was a corpse, fractured and hard, and devoid of give. I could have managed if it was simply dry, but the soil was hard-packed. There was no life here, no energy.

  I couldn’t imagine what might have caused it. Every inch of the Drimera I knew was lush and fertile.

  The trunk wouldn’t budge. Drowsy and sore, I relaxed against it to catch my breath. I blinked long and hard, trying to shove away the venom’s effects. If I didn’t know what was wrong with me, I’d be a lot less calm watching the edges of Ronan’s face run like it was made of wax. One side slid down from the other like something from a horror movie.

  Evans would have loved this.

  Even with Ronan’s misshapen face, I recognized the surprising expression forming on it as he looked at me. Unabashed guilt wasn’t something he wore often.

  Irritated, I called him on it. “Whatever it is, say it and get it over with.”

  His shoulders sagged. “Watching Ella wasn’t a Guild contract. It was a personal job for Aidric.”

  “Dammit, Ronan,” I groaned.

  “He showed up at my place about a year ago, with a bag of money. He said Ella was important, that she was working some kind of deep cover op he was running on the sly. It sounded like he was worried the job had gone south and her cover might be blown.”

  I gave him a dubious squint. “Aidric really talked like that?”

  “Not quite,” Ronan admitted with a devilish snicker. “He was only there for ten minutes. It felt like a damn year. I kept waiting for him to incinerate me.”

  “If she was so vital, why hire you? Your reputation with the elders isn’t much better than mine.”

  “All Guild activity is monitored and approved by Naalish. He needed the job handled by someone who was Guild-trained, but worked outside of the Queen’s view.”

  I nodded, knowing it wasn’t the Queen’s eyes Aidric was worried about. It was her mind. He wanted someone whose thoughts she would have no opportunity to read. “So he was working behind the Queen’s back. That’s ballsy,” I said, impressed. “What exactly did he ask you to do?”

  “Watch her. Keep her safe. Aidric wanted someone on Ella day and night, but it had to be covert. No personal contact unless she was in trouble. He said circumstances had changed and she required more regular protection now than he could provide.”

  “Did he say who or what he’d been protecting her from?

  “No, but it was pretty. Ella Chandler was a secret he didn’t want getting out.”

  “Because she was his daughter? Or because of what’s in her basement?”

  “Probably both.”

  “You knew? Course you did,” I muttered, annoyed I’d assumed otherwise.

  “Not her parentage. Not for sure. That was only a guess. But my men and I have been on Ella round the clock for months. It didn’t take long to notice all the nocturnal activity in the yard and the empty lot next door.”

  “If your coverage was twenty-four
seven, then how is she dead?”

  His gaze dropped. “I got held up at another job. I missed my shift that night.” Defensive anger seized his jaw as he looked at me. “All I wanted was some easy money. I thought if I did this, for Aidric, I was set. I didn’t want to be involved in any of this shit.”

  “Involved? He used you, Ronan. He wanted someone off the books so when things went bad, you could take the fall.”

  “It’s not like that. I sent a message to Aidric yesterday. I told him everything. How I screwed up, what I saw. I thought it was my only chance. But he already knew. Aidric’s not after me, Dahl. He’s as fucked over this as we are.” With a growl that was pure disgust, Ronan shook his head. My compromised brain slowed the motion, making the edges of his face stretch and drag. “Son of a bitch! I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I’m on the wrong fucking side!”

  “You’re on Aidric’s side. How can that be wrong?”

  “I should have planned for a way out. I should have considered the backlash. But I was so focused on the repercussions of failing him. So focused on—”

  “Saving your own skin?”

  Beneath the fall of his hair, his battered face froze. His jaw became a hard line. Anxiety shook his words. “I love you.”

  “Ronan…”

  “No. I’ve always loved you. But when Naalish announced your execution, I didn’t even think of trying to break you out. And I didn’t leave Drimera because I was worried about you. I didn’t follow you through that exit so you wouldn’t have to live alone in their world. I followed you, because I was afraid of dying alone in ours.”

  I swallowed, struggling against the lump in my throat at hearing what was unquestionably one of the few real truths Ronan had ever told me. Yet, I couldn’t shake the fact that all it took was ninety-seven years and imminent death to bring it out.

  Footfall crunched the ground behind us. “You call that an apology?”

  Ronan and I shared a mutual look of concern as Brynne’s steps and her voice grew rapidly louder.

  “It’s weak, Ronan,” she scorned, passing between us, “weak and full of holes. Big ugly holes.” Pausing, she ran a hand over his head. Fully shifted, Brynne gripped Ronan’s hair with her clawed fingers, forcing him to look at her. “Should I fill them in for you, lover? Or would you like to do the honors?”

  His jaw grinding, Ronan yanked free. Brynne laughed and took a few more steps, out into full view. Her petite wings fluttered closed and rested against the ridges on her spine as she pivoted around. It was the first time I’d seen her in uniform, though her short skirt and cropped halter was far less than I once wore. The style showed off a good deal of her sea-colored scales; small octagonal plates that glinted like opal fire in the sun. Batons hung from her slender hips. Ella’s necklace encircled her throat. The amber color complimented the beads on the ends of her teal-blue hair, for once lying flat and smooth against her head.

  Brynne took a step toward Ronan. “Go on. Tell her.” He didn’t reply and she kicked him in the leg. “I said, tell her.”

  Ronan lifted up onto his knees, as tall as he could with his hands bound behind the tree. “You’re too late, Brynne. She knows about us. The pregnancy. The fucking lunatic they turned you into. She knows it all.”

  Stone-gray lips curling, she smiled. “I was listening to the sad little baring of your soul on that rooftop, just like she wanted.” Brynne’s satisfied gaze darted to me. “It was a smart move. Though I’m surprised you were callous enough to carry it out.”

  Ronan shot me a questioning stare. Brynne was biting her lip, waiting for my reply.

  I ignored them both.

  “And you.” Her attention returned to Ronan. “Did you think she let your tongue in her mouth for no reason? You were the sacrificial lamb, the carrot—the unsuspecting worm. So excited you’d finally won the prize, and all the while you were dangling like a little limp dick from her fucking hook.” Wiggling her finger for effect, Brynne looked back and forth between us. A laugh bubbled up from her throat. “Shouldn’t you have learned by now? All these secrets will be the death of you.”

  “Funny,” I said with a deep scowl. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  Her mouth fell in a hard line. “You didn’t have to bait me, Dahlia. I would have waited. I would have gladly painted that wretched city in ash and blood, watching the humans run around, trying to solve my crimes. Trying to figure out what makes me tick and tock,” she clucked, tipping her head side to side. “But, I suppose Reech is angry enough. He’s afraid I’ll kill you before he pops that big question mark over the top of your head. Maybe I should pop it for him. Find out what makes you so damn special.”

  “I’m not special, Brynne. I’m a traitor, an embarrassment—remember? Why do you think the retrievers tried for so long to bring me home?”

  “I think Reech is more interested in why they stopped coming.”

  I held her penetrating gaze as she studied me. “Naalish is the one you should be worried about, Brynne. She sent you on a simple job, and you couldn’t control your crazy long enough to get it done. Now, thanks to you, eyes are opening. Questions are being asked. You’ve sparked the humans’ curiosity, and you have no idea what that means.”

  “It will be doused, as always.”

  “What if you’re wrong?” I paused to let the doubt sink in. “Once they know, they won’t stop. They will press and dig until they find the truth. Then they’ll barrel through the exits with their armies and their scientists. Do you know what humans do with the unknown? What fear makes them do? They will destroy this place. And you brought them one step closer to the door.”

  Brynne shrugged like the possibility didn’t concern her. But a tinge of anxiety had settled into the blue of her eyes. If I could fluster her, I had a chance of getting in her head. Though it didn’t seem like a pretty place to be, it could work in our favor.

  Except distraction was already pushing out her unease with the sound of heavy steps moving across the arid ground behind us. Dark dust stirred over the crust of dead soil as a dozen lyrriken made their way through the row of barren trunks. One passed on either side of me, both partially shifted, in sleeveless black Guild uniforms. A wide range of weapons were strapped to their muscular scaled forms, gleaming with various hues in the intense sun.

  Expressionless, Brynne’s squad filed in to stand silently off to the side in a tight formation. She gave no acknowledgement of their arrival. As second to Reech, Brynne could shun his operatives, beat them, order them to kill, and they would comply. In his absence, she spoke in his stead and they trusted her judgment.

  If only they knew how twisted it was.

  Impatient, I squinted at her. “What are we doing here, Brynne? Execution? Slow torture? Death by your fucking psycho-babble?” I didn’t wait for her reply. “And what’s with the mixed company?” I tossed my head at the aswang beside me, hissing and thrashing. “Planning a little smorgasbord?”

  “Now that you mention it.” Her glare trained on me, Brynne approached him. Her hand caressed his face. The aswang strained, cursing her in his odd tongue and baring his serrated teeth. “What is it the humans say?” Her touch glided down his neck. “Trespassers will be devoured?”

  Brynne dug into his throat. The aswang jerked and shuddered. White blood burst in a broad spray, splashing onto me and the female aswang, as Brynne ripped out flesh and fragile cords. Tilting her head back, she dropped the meat into her open mouth. Pale fluid dripped to stripe her scales. She made a show of licking her fingers clean as she glanced up and down the line of us; choosing her next meal.

  Ronan shot me a look, before turning pleading eyes on Brynne. “It doesn’t have to be like this. We aren’t trespassers. We aren’t like them. We’re lyrriken, like you. This is my home, Brynne. It can be our home,” he said, in a smooth intimate tongue that turned my stomach. “Just don’t hurt her. Let Dahlia go.”

  “Hmmm…” Brynne tapped the side of her head. “I stay. She goes. You stay
. And…” a devious, excited grin spread over her lips, “she never has to learn the truth! How clever you are!”

  Stiffening at her embellished praise, Ronan seemed unsure how to reply. His troubled stare followed Brynne as she moved toward me.

  “You were smart once, Dahlia,” she said, insult choking her flattery. “After your daring escape from execution, those detained in your name would have been well guarded. Yet, somehow, your lover managed to slip away.” Straddling my legs, she hunkered down. “We both know Ronan is good at so many things. But breaking out of the Citadel, sneaking off-world without a scratch—when the Guild was on high alert—doesn’t that seem a tiny bit implausible?” Leaning her cheek against mine, she whispered, “Ask him how he got out. Ask him how long he’s been working for Aidric. Ask him…why he really followed you to that human world.”

  Brynne’s claws brushed my face as she pulled back. I waited for her to tear me open like the aswang. Instead, she stood and withdrew. Backing up to watch me with her arms crossed, it was clear: she wanted me angry. She wanted us to fight, to amuse her.

  Fuck that.

  I looked up, calm as I could manage. “You think I don’t know what Ronan is?”

  “Dahl…” he started.

  I shot him a terse, “Shut up,” without my eyes ever leaving hers. “You think I’m not the same as him? That I don’t hold back and bend the truth. I lie every day. The difference is my conscience is tired. And my patience has kicked the fucking bucket from listening to the two of you whine and bitch. So go ahead, spill his secrets. Show me what an asshole I’ve been for believing him as much as I have. But this knife you’re trying to twist with his name on it—don’t bother. It’s already in so deep, I can’t fee it anymore.”

  Nostrils flaring, hands clenched, Brynne looked like I’d just taken away her favorite toy. “Aidric,” she said, with a contemptuous sneer, “let him go.”

  “Bullshit,” I laughed.

  “It’s true. Ask him.”

  I couldn’t. I couldn’t even look at him. Because if that was true…

  “Aidric wanted you watched,” she said. “He wanted you kept out of the Queen’s hands. He wanted you moving so the retrievers wouldn’t find you. Ronan did that for him.”