Rolling onto her side, Jenn reached out a hand. He took it, smiling when she guided it to her face and kissed the back.
“We’ll get through this,” she assured him. “I promise.”
Liam nodded slowly, but did not reply. He dressed with equal patience, pulling on his trousers and hunting for his shirt.
Jenn stretched languidly and grunted as her back cracked audibly. Turning, she blushed to discover Liam watching her. Snatching up her cloth undershirt, she shielded her chest behind it and scowled playfully at him.
“Why are you staring?” she grumbled.
Liam chuckled as he laced up the front of his trousers. Crawling toward her, he gave one of Jenn’s breasts an affectionate squeeze through her makeshift blanket, then kissed her brow and stood.
“Because you’re beautiful,” he said. “Even when you’re wrong.”
Jenn rolled her eyes and quickly donned her shirt. Brushing a hand across several of her discarded vines, she held out her arms and waited as they wound their way around her arms and shoulders. Once in place, they went to work immediately, retrieving the fragments of her armor and lashing them into place so quickly that the process was nearly complete by the time she stood.
“You meant what you said then?” she asked. “You’ll talk with the Mayor?”
“I meant it.”
“Good,” Jenn said. “I’m sure he’s busy, but I’m guessing he’ll make time for us.”
Liam wasn’t so sure, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Adjusting the last of his clothes to hide the reality of what he’d been up to for the last twenty minutes, he headed for the stairs. As he neared the foot of them, however, one of Jenn’s vines caught him by the wrist and held him fast until she could sidle up to embrace him from behind.
Her body was soft and warm, save for the few spots where her armor protruded stiffly. Even so, the contrast with her earlier wildness brought a welcome warmth to his chest.
“Thank you, Liam,” she said.
“You’re… welcome?”
Jenn kissed his back, just above his left shoulder blade.
“We’ll get through this,” she continued. “All of this. And once it’s over, you’re going to return the favor.”
He turned in Jenn’s arms, just enough to meet her eyes and raise an eyebrow.
“What favor?” he asked.
Jenn smirked at him.
“You’ll see,” she said.
Chapter Eighteen
Kathryn was sitting close by the trapdoor when Liam emerged from the hidden stairs. She scrambled to her feet at the sight of him, hastily stowing the knife she’d cradled in her lap back into its designated pocket. From her expression, she’d hoped he would not notice it. And he very nearly hadn’t. Instead, his gaze had lingered on the skin of her neck, or at least the band that was not hidden beneath the collar of her dress.
The row of bruises was less pronounced than he’d feared, but prominent enough that he was surprised he’d not noticed them in the light of day.
Kathryn’s uneasy smile grew as he stepped toward her, then vanished entirely when Jenn followed him through the doorway. She bared her teeth, side-stepping to create a clear angle if she decided to pounce.
“Stop that,” Liam said. Then, in the same breath, “We’re going to see the Mayor. If you come with us, will you behave, Kat?”
“Mayor?” Kathryn echoed. She glanced at him, her face losing its fierceness in light of his question.
“He’s in charge of this city.” Liam stepped closer, effectively shielding Jenn from view as she maneuvered past him and headed for the parlor. “We’re going to ask him how he wants to fight the Occs.”
Kathryn beamed at him. “Yes,” she said. “Kat—I behave. Fight Occs. Yes.”
“That’s good. Let’s go then,” Liam said.
Setting a hand on Kathryn’s shoulder, he steered her toward the parlor in Jenn’s wake. They’d gone only a couple steps when the girl froze, however, and peered up at him.
“Liam?” she said, in a soft voice. “Jenn talk? Angry?”
He sighed, fighting the urge to simply brush her questions aside. But despite his desire to move on, he knew he owed it to her to try.
“It’s complicated,” he said. “She’s… yes, she’s angry. But we’re not fighting. Not anymore.”
“Oh. Good.” After an awkward, pregnant pause, she continued. “And secret-secret? Again? Soon?”
“We’ll see,” he said. He chuckled despite himself, then leaned down and kissed her briefly on the lips. “Not soon, but probably.”
If he’d thought Kathryn beaming before, it was only because he had not seen the grin she aimed at him then. It was a rapturous thing, innocent, mischievous, and ravenous all at once.
The streets were still mostly empty when Liam stepped back out onto them. Here and there, a few bold souls had overcome their fears and hurried to their destinations with hunched shoulders and swift, occasionally lopsided gaits.
Liam scarcely noticed them. He was busy maintaining his position directly between Jenn and Kathryn. Neither of the women had yet shown any inclination to fight, but he was not about to take any chances.
Besides, if anyone seemed likely to come to blows, it was Andrew. The man appeared flabbergasted that Liam would even consider meeting with the Mayor and had all but demanded that he reconsider. In the end, however, when it became obvious that Liam had made up his mind, he had reluctantly taken his leave of the madam and announced his intention to accompany them.
And so, the four of them headed toward the city’s center, hurried by both an awareness that the Occs could return at any moment, and by a peculiar resignation.
“This is a bad idea, Liam,” Andrew said for the third time, as they followed Jenn into an alley of sorts.
Now, as before, Liam ignored the man. Though he shared Andrew’s opinion, he had come too far to turn back now. Besides, his half-finished reconciliation with Jenn could not wait. He’d threatened once, in his thoughts, to raze New Lewville if anything happened to her. And at the moment, the buildings that loomed overhead looked like so much kindling.
“This is it,” Jenn announced. She slowed at the mouth of the alley. For an instant, Liam thought she was waiting for him to catch up so they might enter the courtyard together. That illusion broke the next second.
Jenn lunged aside, first on her legs and then carried further by an eruption of vines from her back. Gunfire erupted, rounds missing her and burrowing into the wooden beams that flanked the alley. At once, the air was filled with sawdust.
Cursing, Liam waved Kathryn and Andrew back, then charged forward into the courtyard. He had just enough time to be astonished by its size and opulence before another burst of gunfire sounded. He stumbled, grunting as a bullet caught him in the side and splintered a rib. Fortunately, he did not lose his feet and the wound was almost healed by the time he turned to face his attacker.
The sight of the Hunter made him freeze. Not out of fear, though the primal, irresistible terror struck him as it always did, but rather out of recognition.
Wuyong walked toward him, smirking fiendishly as he casually replaced his rifle’s spent magazine with a fresh one. The Hunter stalled twenty yards away, casting a cautious glance at the nearby rooftop and the nearest tree. Finding no ambush waiting, he returned his gaze to Liam and offered a mocking bow of sorts.
“Fuyuan,” he growled. “It’s been a while.”
Liam’s first instinct was, oddly, comprised of two entirely disparate impulses. Part of him, the part that had cowered in an Institute cell and begged for mercy, urged him to flee. And the other, the feral, animalistic part that had grown in the months since his escape, demanded that he charge.
In the end, he listened to neither voice. Taking the rifle from his shoulder, Liam carried it casually in front of him. It was still empty, of course, but Wuyong had no way of knowing that.
“It has,” he said, fighting t
o keep the tremble from his voice. “So, are you still…?”
“Loyal?” Wuyong snapped. “Of course I am. I know where my allegiance lies. You may have killed Zhao, but the Institute is bigger than one person. There are many more just like her. Hundreds! And you’ll never escape them all! Even now, we are—”
“No, no,” Liam interrupted. “Sorry. I meant, are you still a cowardly, little goutuizi?”
Wuyong’s smirk disappeared, leaving only bestial rage. He lifted his rifle, aimed squarely at Liam, and fired away.
Liam flinched, cursing himself for the slip, but otherwise gave little reaction as the rounds struck him. Now, as when he’d been shot by the Occs on their way to the city or when Jenn had speared him through the chest, he felt only the shuddering pressure of the wounds, not the pain itself. That fact was not lost on Wuyong; after a dozen or so rounds, the Hunter ceased firing and scoffed in obvious frustration.
“Clever,” he said. “You’ve grown up.”
Liam glanced around. Kathryn and Andrew had taken shelter just inside the alley and both looked ready to join the fight at a moment’s notice. Jenn, on the other hand, had managed to reach one of the courtyard’s trees and taken shelter on the opposite side of its broad trunk. She too looked ready to strike, though the distance would make her javelins the only suitable weapon.
For his part, Liam had no desire to involve them. If the growth in his own enhancement was any indication, there would be little that either of them could do to kill Wuyong short of decapitating him in a single blow.
“What are you doing here, Wuyong?” Liam asked. Another quick glance around revealed no one else in the entire courtyard, whether the Mayor’s or Occ. “I’m guessing it wasn’t just to welcome me.”
“Tactics,” the Hunter said. Tossing his rifle aside, he rolled his shoulder and grunted as several of his human traits melted away. He bared his teeth as his gums peeled back to reveal increasingly monstrous, pointed fangs. “In a war, you target the most dangerous adversary first.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
Wuyong laughed.
“I didn’t,” he said, dropping into a crouch.
Liam lifted his rifle, not to shoot, but to block the Hunter’s attack. Rather than leap at him, however, Wuyong launched himself vertically. His inhumanly powerful legs carried him aloft the better part of two stories, high enough that he did not even need to dig his claws into the side of the building that formed one wall of the courtyard. Catching hold of the horizontal beam that formed the blocky rooftop, he hauled him onto the roof and vanished from sight.
For a brief, irrational moment, Liam searched the courtyard for some method of following after him. There was none, of course, but the momentary distraction was all it took for Jenn to reach his side.
“Liam!” she hissed. “Come on!”
“Huh?”
Jenn didn’t bother answering his question. Not that she needed to. She gave his arm an urgent tug, then abandoned his side and sprinted toward the Mayor’s palace. Liam followed her, first on instinct and then with growing dread as Wuyong’s words came together in his mind.
They reached the palace at virtually the same time, with Kathryn a half-step to the rear and Andrew slowly but diligently following after. Even before the doors were opened, however, Liam already had a firm notion of what they might find inside.
All four of the great windows had been smashed to varying degrees and splinters of colored glass littered the brick walkway that ringed the building. Near the corner of the bottom-right window, a man lay slumped over, half-way through the glass. Liam didn’t bother going to try and heal him; an upright shard from the frame had been driven clean through his neck, holding him in place.
“Damn it,” Andrew cursed breathlessly, as he caught up to them and noticed the corpse. “This is just what we need right now.”
Liam pushed open the door and hurried through, arms outstretched to soak up any bullets from jittery defenders. Unfortunately, there was none.
Under different circumstances, he was sure that the interior of the Mayor’s palace would have been an auspicious sight. And, worst of all, it still was, after a fashion. Dozens of bodies littered the floor of the place, lying in pools of blood spilled from torn throats and shot-through chests. The bodies grew denser and more frequent as they carefully made their way toward the throne. And yet, despite the carnage, Liam felt his gaze drawn to the damaged art and stained architecture nearly as much as to the corpses themselves.
In some ways, his distraction was a welcome relief. Several of the bodies nearest the throne were naked and decidedly feminine. Most horrifyingly of all, their deaths did not appear to share the efficient brutality of those further away.
Unexpectedly nauseous, Liam looked away. No sooner had he done so than Kathryn stepped forward and took his hand. Though she did not seem to share his revulsion, her expression was soft with understanding.
“Tobias!” Jenn whispered suddenly, vaulting ahead. Liam reached for her, but she escaped his grasp. Stopping beside the throne, she crouched and hesitantly turned over one of the room’s former occupants. The body flopped lifelessly at her touch, but she pressed several fingers to the throat regardless.
Then, as if expecting no differently, she straightened. Her hands were balled into fists and the tips of her vines angled downward as if she was ready to pound them against the floor in frustration.
“Jenn,” Liam called, softly. “I’m sorry. Maybe—”
Jenn stiffened, then whirled so violently Liam thought for a moment that Wuyong had reappeared. But rather than facing the main doors they’d passed through, her gaze had turned to one of the small, unmarked doors at the rear of the chamber. Without even a word, she hurried toward it.
Again, it fell to Liam to follow after. And again, the others followed in turn, despite Andrew’s protests that they should wait and send word to the Militia.
The door Jenn sought out was locked and had already resisted several blows by the time Liam reached her side. Cursing, she knelt and guided one of her vines against the lock. The tip splintered quickly, peeling back and allowing several tiny strands to slip into the locking mechanism.
Unsure what else to do, but unable to simply stand by and wait, Liam laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry about the Mayor,” he said. “It’s—”
“Stop it,” Jenn snapped, glaring up at him fiercely. “It doesn’t matter now.”
She might have said more, but the familiar sound of the lock turning stopped her short. Nodding in satisfaction, she stood and tried the door—unsuccessfully. Frowning, she tried it again, and then a third time. Still, the door did not budge.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “It’s unlocked. How—”
Andrew’s chuckle interrupted her disbelief. Moving forward, he gestured at the lock with his rifle.
“Second lock on the inside,” he said. “Militia’s got them too. Mind if I try?”
Nodding, Jenn stood and made room. Then, at Andrew’s insistence, she and Kathryn stepped much further back out of ricochet range. Looking at Liam, he opened his mouth as if to instruct the same, then thought better of it and shrugged.
“Always wondered what he kept behind these doors,” he muttered.
It took several shots to the locks and hinges before the door finally yielded, but they accomplished it in the end. Even before they managed to pull it open, Jenn was again beside them, cramming her vines into the narrow gap between the door and the frame to assist. And, as the door was finally yanked free, she was again the first one through.
The door opened on a narrow staircase, leading down. Liam followed her, squinting as the light faded into the dull umber of a single lantern. The descent was not finished after a single set of stairs, however, or even two. It was not until they’d managed the third set, traveling nearly the entire width of the palace in the process, that their descent terminated in a wide, la
ntern-lit room that bore little resemblance to the throne room above.
In fact, if Liam didn’t know better, he’d have guessed that they’d been transported directly back to the Institute. Rows of partially corroded steel tables and chairs filled the enormous workshop, surrounding vats of chemicals and surprisingly pristine operating rooms. Here and there, stacks of blueprints and diagrams lay in tidy piles, while white lab coats and gloves hung from the wall on rows of assigned pegs.
It took Liam a moment to collect himself. By the time he had, Jenn had turned round and shrugged as if to indicate the room as a whole.
“You see?” she asked. “I told you. The Mayor is—was making weapons. A way to stop the Occs for good.”
“Is this…?” Liam asked. He swallowed hard, unable to force the word out.
He didn’t need to; Jenn spoke it without hesitation.
“That’s right,” she said. “It’s the Institute of New Lewville.”
Chapter Nineteen
Liam’s heart began to race as he looked around the room. It was so hard not be back there. Despite everything that had happened, it had only been a few weeks since he’d been a prisoner—a slave, really. And to hear Jenn of all people speak so proudly of it, using that word…
“Liam?” Jenn said. “Liam, look at me.”
His heart seized and he instantly broke out in a cold sweat. His gaze snapped to Jenn. The wildness in his eyes must have reminded her of her mistake, however, and she lifted her hands in a placating gesture.
“Sorry,” she said. “I forgot.”
“Start talking,” he said. Breathing hard, he looked away, then closed his eyes as Kathryn stepped forward and took his hand once again. “Why are we here?”
“The Mayor was working on many things,” Jenn said. Though her voice was calm, she spoke a bit quickly, as if afraid he would turn and run at any second. “One of those was Hunters, like Damien. He thought that if our side had them, then the Occs would be less likely to rely on them in combat.”
Feral Empires: Fanning Flames Page 16