CHAPTER ONE
The nausea was always the worst part of emerging from cryo sleep. Miriell fought her confused thoughts and the incipient headache, trying not to throw up. She curled into a ball on her side, hands fisted on her unhappy stomach and bit her lip to avoid moaning.
A rough hand on her shoulder shook her. “Come on, you know we don’t have time for this sick act of yours. Snap out of it. The client’s waiting to see what you can do.” Jareck’s voice became more congenial, placating almost as he shifted his focus to someone else. Clearly, he was no longer speaking to her. “These performers, as my boss calls them, don’t do well with cryo sleep, but she’ll be on her feet in a minute or two, I promise. Then we can be on our way.”
“Good. The boss is getting impatient, waiting in the limo. She doesn’t spend much time in cargo warehouses.”
The new voice was deep, and although the tone was rough and the words clipped, Miriell felt as if a warm blanket had been placed over her shoulders. Intrigued by her own reaction, she forced herself to sit up on the floor, bracing herself against the cargo container that had been her prison. Blinking to focus, she turned her head, searching for the owner of the new voice.
Jareck grabbed her elbow in a bruising grip and yanked her to her feet. He must have removed the shackles while she was still unconscious. Giving her a shake, he said, “I swear, every time we travel for a job, you act as if your sweet time asleep in the cryo unit was torture.”
Maybe because for me it is. Swaying, balance still off, she couldn’t resist Jareck as he tugged her close to him, the smell of his cheap cologne another assault on her overloaded senses. Her stomach heaved, and she had to make a conscious effort not to throw up all over him, slapping her free hand over her mouth.
“Do I have to carry you?” His voice was low, and she knew it was a threat. He’d make her pay later.
With painful effort, she straightened her spine and stepped away, brushing one hand down her plain gray tunic in a vain attempt to smooth out the wrinkles. “I can walk.”
“You don’t look like it.” As their new companion voiced his opinion, she realized he was no one she’d ever met before. Tall, with broad shoulders and well-defined muscles, he had black hair and gray eyes that were almost silver. She was mesmerized by his eyes. Miriell wished she dared to engage her gifts, get a sense of this person, maybe figure out why he made her feel safe, when clearly, she was anything but.
Jareck stopped to pick up his kit bag, never releasing his hold on her. “Conor’s right, we’ve got to be going. You’re ready to behave, right?”
Submissively, she nodded, bottling up her anger and hatred. Someday I’ll get my chance and you will die. The implacable secret vow was the only thing keeping her going. There would be revenge, not only for herself, but also for all the others. Hands at her sides, head bowed, she said, “As you wish, sir.”
“How do you ensure she won’t make a break for it when we walk outside, won’t scream for help?” Conor at least seemed skeptical of her meek compliance.
Jareck pulled a slim black AI case from his pocket and waved the device under her nose. Miriell fought not to flinch. He grabbed the necklace at her throat, a thick collar of gold set with a few random faux gems. “We taught them to behave right from the start. See this? It’s explosive.”
The other man moved so fast Miriell could only blink. He snatched the AI from Jareck’s hand and shoved the skinny man against the wall. “You’re planning to blow this woman up? And us with her?”
Pulling at Conor’s arm to no avail, Jareck choked. “No, it’s a directed charge, sophisticated, kills her and localizes the effects. A bit messy, but not like you’re thinking. I swear.”
Conor frowned at the device in his hand and then at Miriell, who struggled to remain calm, to push away the memories of when the Amarotu thugs who kept her and her people captive demonstrated the way the collar worked, selecting a man at random from their group and ruthlessly killing him as Jareck was describing.
Conor released Jareck, stepped away and tossed the AI back to him. “A bit overly dramatic and barbaric, don’t you think?”
“Nah, these people are savages. Didn’t even know they lived on a planet going around a sun when the Shemdylann slavers captured them. The Tulavarrans understand brute force, for all they’ve got a touch of psy power.” Coughing, Jareck came back to her. “And she knows damn well if she misbehaves, we’ll kill a few of her friends too. The deadly consequences in store keep them in line.”
Conor stared at her. She felt his gaze as if it was a physical force. “I’ll take your word for it. All I care about is you and your performer, as you call her, getting the job done for us the way the boss wants.” Brushing his hands as if to say he was done with them and their problems, he walked to the door.
Jareck rushed to grab her, towing her after the other man. “Oh, she’ll get the job done all right. These people are amazingly effective.”
The sunlight was blinding to Miriell. She took a deep breath of the fresh air and felt a flicker of energy from the planet’s living things. Much less than she usually picked up after emerging from the cryo pod, but the power was restorative, although she tried to hide the fact she was feeling better. The men led her toward a large, sleek groundcar, where a driver waited. The windows in the back were opaque. The driver opened the door for Conor, who climbed in without a second glance at his companions. Jareck shoved Miriell into the vehicle, and she fell awkwardly onto a plush seat, with no time to scoot over before her minder was pressing against her as he entered the car. He gave her a violent shove she knew would leave bruises where his hands connected with her body.
Biting her lip, she moved against the far door, which she could see was locked. Not that she could have done anything about it if the door was unlocked. The explosive collar cancelled any chance to escape. These people were too thorough.
“Sorry for the delay.” Jareck was all oily apology as he held out his hand to the woman seated across from them. “Jareck Treen, from the Devir 6 branch.”
The woman stared at his hand as if it were a dead fish and sipped her drink. “Conor, explain to this idiot that I don’t shake hands with the hired help. He’ll live longer if he understands the ground rules in my branch of the organization.”
“Lady Opherra most emphatically doesn’t interact with the rank and file,” the Combine soldier said, accepting a glass of feelgood from the woman. He drank the amber fluid in one gulp and poured himself a refill from the bar built into the compartment.
Miriell licked her chapped lips and tried not to think about how thirsty she was.
Jareck shrugged, smoothed his hair and tucked his hand inside his jacket pocket. “However you want to play it. You asked for me. I didn’t volunteer.”
“In point of fact, we did not ask for you or anyone from your branch,” the woman said. “You and your—what do you call her? Your performer?” She gave Miriell a scathing up-and-down glance. “Were forced upon us by my boss, who evidently had quite the sales pitch from your boss the last time they met.”
“Oh.” Even the normally garrulous Jareck was at a loss for what to say.
The groundcar’s smoothly humming engine filled the silence.
Over the past four years of horror and captivity, Miriell had perfected the art of studying her captors carefully, seeking to understand and anticipate where the most danger would come from. Head bowed, hands folded meekly in her lap, she reached for the planet’s living energies—the plants, the animals, the fish, the birds—and although the feedback was curiously minimal, she let a tiny portion of her renewed power loose. The effort was unusually challenging. Taking a deep breath, she curbed her impatience and hoped her face remained expressionless. Cryo sleep affects me more each time I travel. At least, she hoped it was the effect of the technology the Combine forced her to submit to, and not her god leaching away power from one who was now so unworthy to hold it.
Jareck shifted beside her, but she was well acquainted with the slimy green and gray representing his soul in her amplified vision. She needed to know what this Opherra, the woman in charge, was like. Outwardly, the boss was a sleek beauty, generously endowed with all the attractions the human men seemed to prefer—long shiny black hair, pale skin accented by perfectly painted ruby red lips. Her clothing was well made, intricately detailed. Golden rings and earrings completed her presentation. A woman of riches and power. Her soul was as Miriell expected—dull sullen reds threaded with black, and layers of the same slimy green and gray that defined Jareck. Hints of tarnished gold. Corruptive power. Miriell withdrew, afraid that one possessing so many aspects of the Shadow, even if human, would sense her scrutiny. Already hostile, Opherra mustn’t also become suspicious. No one rose to high rank inside the Amarotu Combine without being ruthless and possessing a highly developed situational awareness.
She almost didn’t bother with the bodyguard, Conor. She’d met many like him, men and women, at the facility where she was imprisoned. Some smarter and more ambitious than others, but all dedicated to the crime syndicate they’d sworn their lives to uphold. Thugs at best, killers at worst. No help to be had there, only danger.
She decided she might as well know how deep his cruelty and corruption ran, if only to armor herself against the near-hypnotic effect his voice had on her.
Her senses read him as obsidian, opaque black shields, to the core. One who hid all his dark secrets well. Hardly surprising. There was a wisp of sex between Opherra and him, reinforced by the proprietary hand the crime boss rested on the muscles of his upper thigh. Miriell realized she’d shaken her head. It’s no business of mine if these two sleep together. Surprised by her own reaction, she straightened her spine, schooling her face to remain impassive. As she closed down her silent search, she stopped, caught by a flicker, a hint of pure cobalt blue fire, buried deep beneath the outer layers Conor presented to one such as her. Startled, she focused more sharply with her senses but the flame, if it had been there at all, flickered and vanished.
Only warriors of Thuun carry the blue fire.
But this man was no warrior of her god. Thuun held no sway here in this civilization. Her unanswered prayers and desperate pleas over the past four years since she and her people had been taken testified to the god’s absence. She raised her eyes to find him staring at her, oddly silver eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, as if he knew she was studying him. A tiny shiver of adrenaline coursed through her veins, and Miriell curled herself up a bit more tightly, averting her gaze to stare fixedly out the window at the sprawling city.
The self-protective action drew Opherra’s attention, followed immediately by her ire. “The woman’s appearance is hopeless. What can your bosses be thinking? Not only is her hair unusual and easily remembered, but that gaudy piece of metal around her neck screams cheap. Tawdry. And the gray tunic? Institutional.” The boss sniffed. “I can’t have someone dressed like an escapee from a prison in my company.”
“We usually work behind the scenes,” Jareck said, his voice filled with the blatant desire to please. “She doesn’t have to be in the room with the victim, once she knows who the target is.”
“Well, she’s going to be in the room this time. Luckily, we’ve a few hours to spare before tonight’s test run.” Opherra turned to Conor, holding her glass out for a refill. “Tell my assistant to bring some of her stock of clothing to the guest suite and outfit this person appropriately. If these people have to remain here any length of time, Tamlu will have to go shopping for the female.”
“Yes, boss.” Conor pulled out an AI and spoke quietly into it.
A few minutes later, the groundcar pulled up in front of a huge hotel, the building grander than anything Miriell had seen in her time in the Sectors. Conor handed Opherra out, and the pair swept into the lobby, Jareck and Miriell hurrying to keep up. The group took a gravlift to the penthouse, and she was terrified the entire time, but not for any amount of credits would she reach out to Jareck. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, the fear of falling paramount as the silvery grav stream carried them higher and higher.
She didn’t know how to quell the vertigo, so she focused on Conor’s back. He was so large, and there was something reassuring about his presence, even though he was one of her enemies. Would he try to catch her if she somehow fell down this shaft?
As if he’d heard her, he turned his head ever so slightly in her direction. Miriell averted her gaze, which was a mistake, as the rapidly moving, distorted reflections in the gravtube’s shiny surface reinforced her dizziness. The nausea left over from the cryo sleep manifested itself again, and she swallowed hard, terrified of throwing up in front of Opherra. She closed her eyes and prayed to Thuun, useless though the plea was.
A strong hand circled her wrist, carrying with it warmth she wanted to lean into for comfort. She realized her upward momentum had stopped, and she was floating motionless.
“We’re here,” Conor said, drawing her onto the landing where the boss and Jareck stood.
He released her almost before she could register the fact he’d touched her, but the momentary contact left her both shaken and unaccountably reassured. Her wrist tingled where his fingers had rested. Jareck stepped into place next to her, holding her elbow tightly, and together they walked down the corridor behind Opherra and Conor. Miriell tried to calm her racing pulse and order her thoughts.
Opherra continued on toward another gravlift at the end of the hall that would go up one more level to the master suite. Conor directed Jareck and Miriell into a suite of rooms along the way before rejoining his employer.
“Well, this ain’t half bad,” Jareck said, standing in the middle of their huge sitting room and pivoting to examine the lush appointments of the chamber. “Wish the ringmaster sent us on more jobs like this one’s shaping up to be. I could get used to traveling in the top circles. Maybe if we do a good enough job for Opherra, she’ll want to keep us in the lap of luxury.” He looked over his shoulder at Miriell. “Sit,” he said, pointing at the closest chair.
Obediently, she slid into the seat. She’d long ago stopped putting up any outward resistance to the way the Amarotu gang members treated her. Inside, where she burnished her hatred and planned their downfall, was a different story. Her moment would come, and when it did—
Jareck disappeared into the bedroom. She heard him exclaim in pleasure, followed by the sound of clinking glass. Miriell clenched her fists and bile rose in the back of her throat. Jareck was bad enough sober, but if there were expensive feelgoods, as she suspected, he’d become a sloppy, ugly drunk. Dangerous.
There was a knock at the door, and before Miriell could move, the portal swung open to reveal a smiling woman dressed in a hotel uniform. Apparently, the level of luxury in this hotel extended to human servants.
“Housekeeping,” the intruder said with a cheery lilt. “Someone called for more towels. Apologies for disturbing you, miss. I didn’t realize the room was already occupied, but the door was unlocked, so—”
Miriell rose to her feet. “It’s not a problem. Please, go ahead.” She waved one hand toward the bedroom. Presumably, the bathroom was beyond.
Arms full of fluffy towels, the maid nodded and crossed the elaborately patterned carpet.
Taking one tentative step toward the still open door, Miriell glanced in the direction the woman had gone. She heard Jareck asking the maid a question, something about room service. Could it be this easy? After four years, is freedom so close? If I can get far enough away from Jareck, he won’t be able to use the explosive device. Stumbling from fear and anxiety, she ran to the door and slipped into the corridor. Fortunately, the hall was empty. Hugging the wall, Miriell searched for alternate exits but saw only the gravlift, so she forced herself to run to it. She slammed her hand on the panel, and the portal opened smoothly. Not giving herself time to be frightened, she leaped into the grav stream and let it carry her downward as above her the door closed again. How long would she have before Jareck realized she’d fled?
When she reached the lower floors of the hotel, other people were in the tube, apparently prevented somehow from ascending to the penthouse but able to use the gravlift unhindered below a certain level. For the most part, the other guests ignored her, although excitement and terror made her clumsy, and she bumped into several. She exited at the lobby along with a group of excitedly chattering tourists, human and nonhuman sentients, all babbling about the temple ruins on their itinerary for the day’s trip. Scurrying in their wake through the crowded entrance hall, she hoped a casual observer would think her part of the group.
The outer doors opened at her approach, and a burst of adrenaline propelled her onto the sidewalk in a rush, jostling a couple who’d paused to check their AI’s. Murmuring an apology, she stepped away. Which way? What now? Frantic, she set off to the left toward what appeared to be a main street with heavy groundcar traffic. The necklace bobbed around her neck as she ran. No one had ever told her what the range of the controller was but the more distance she put between herself and Jareck, the more hopeful she felt. And the police the Amarotu were always talking about with loathing would be able to remove it, wouldn’t they?
Reaching the thoroughfare, Miriell stopped in confusion. There were so many people and so many vehicles. How did one find these police?
“Excuse me—” She tried to stop one of the hurrying citizens, but he shrugged her off and shouldered past, as did the next person.
Changing tactics, Miriell approached a woman waiting with two small children to cross the street. “How do I find the police?”
“Now, darling, no need for involving the cops. The authorities have better things to do.” The deep voice swirled around her as Conor hauled her in, not ungently, and held her close in a parody of affectionate care. His arms were like steel around her, his muscles unyielding. “I told you, the hotel will be able to take care of the problem.”
Pushing against him in frustration, Miriell swore at Conor in her own language. To be so close to escaping…
Mouth open, the woman was staring at them. As her children tugged at her hands, she said directly to Miriell, “Are you all right?”
“My wife’s fine,” Conor answered smoothly. “Aren’t you, honey? We just arrived today. She gets disoriented a bit by cryo sleep. Waking dreams for the first day or so. You know how it is, I’m sure. I’ll get her back to the hotel, get some nice hot tea into her, and she’ll be herself again, good as ever. Thanks for your concern.”
Conor’s grip was now crushing her elbow. Miriell nodded, fighting back tears. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. I hope I didn’t frighten the children.”
Uncertain, hesitant, the woman scooped up her smaller child, tightened her grip on the other and sprinted across the street as the traffic paused in obedience to signals Miriell didn’t see.
“Not your smartest move,” Conor said in a low voice as he pulled Miriell away, retreating toward the hotel. “We have to get you back to the room before Opherra learns you escaped. Her punishments tend to be swift and harsh. Fortunately, she’s addicted to long baths, so we have a window of opportunity.”
“Please—” She knew there was no mercy to be had from an Amarotu soldier, but it was heartbreaking to come so close to escaping the nightmare her life had become. She sagged in his hold as her knees weakened. “I’m nothing to you. Let me go, I beg you.”
He shook his head, gripping her arm more tightly as he pulled her along. “You’re part of my boss’s operation. It’s my job to secure her assets and watch her back. Can’t have you picked up by the police. When I realized you were in the lobby by yourself, I called the room and told Jareck to let me handle it. He won’t trigger the necklace, don’t worry. But if you aren’t under his control by the time Opherra becomes aware of the breach, she’ll order your death, likely as not.” He glanced at her. “Haven’t you ever heard where there’s life, there’s hope? My advice is live to fight another day.”
“Not for such as me. Hope fled a long time ago.” She shook her head, angrily brushing at her tears with her free hand. Belatedly, she tried to summon her power, to break free of this man and run, but she was too upset to find the necessary inner calm, and only flickers answered her call. Conor marched her through the lobby and into the gravlift, intimidating an elderly couple who tried to enter when he did. He took her aloft so rapidly that Miriell had a hard time breathing.
“By the way, for future reference, many of the local police are on the Amarotu payroll.” As they entered the hall and headed toward the room, he added in a low voice, “I’ll swear you didn’t talk to anyone. Otherwise, you’re on your own.”
The moment she crossed the threshold, Jareck sprang at her, grabbing her away from Conor and backhanding her across the face so viciously she fell. Swearing and calling her obscene names, he moved to kick her, and Miriell curled up to protect herself, well aware of the damage he could inflict.
The blow never landed. When she peeked cautiously, Conor had Jareck in a choke hold, slammed against the far wall. “No need for violence. She saw an opening, and she took it. We’d probably do the same in her place. No harm done—I got her back safely.” He glanced over his shoulder at Miriell. “Can you stand?”
Shaking, she grabbed at the chair next to her and struggled to her feet. Her cheek ached, and her head spun.
“If you think Opherra took exception to your prisoner’s clothes, wait till you see how the boss reacts to the bruise across her face,” Conor said. He gave Jareck a shove and let him go.
“What does she care?” Jareck straightened his clothes and gave Miriell a baleful look.
“About the woman? Not at all. About her appearance? Opherra is high-class, high-end, supernova. That’s her cover and her image. She can’t have anyone in her orbit who appears to be an assault victim. Too many questions might get asked.”
There was a knock, and another woman breezed into the room, arms full of clothing. “Opherra said to bring a variety of choices, so here I am.” She stopped, gazing from one person to the next and gasping when she looked at Miriell.
I must be bruising spectacularly. Or else this woman’s never seen a nonhuman sentient up close before. She sank into the chair, trying to close herself off from the gathering, to put herself into a peaceful state, but her cheek hurt and her hip ached where she’d fallen.
“Here.” Conor handed her some ice wrapped in a towel. He moved to the door. “She’s going to need makeup to cover the offensive mark the punk gave her just now, Tamlu. Do your best—we have an hour before we go out to dinner.”
The room felt empty with Conor gone.
After gathering up the dresses, Tamlu came to where Miriell sat. “We…we’d better get to work if you have to leave in an hour. The boss is an impatient woman, and bad things happen when people keep her waiting.” She glanced over at Jareck. “Did someone think to get you appropriate clothes? The restaurant is five stars, very posh.”
“Yeah, I got something. Had the hotel send a suit up from the boutique and charged it to Opherra’s account.” He poured himself a drink. Gesturing at Miriell with the glass and sloshing the feelgood on the carpet in the process, he said, “Don’t think you’re off the hook for today’s little trick. You and me will discuss it later, without any more interference from the local muscle. Now behave yourself and cooperate.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” He fingered the controller for the necklace.
Even though she knew he’d never trigger it in the current situation, she shivered and sat up straighter. “Yes, sir.”
Jareck stared belligerently at Opherra’s assistant. “The performer doesn’t leave the room without me, got it, Tammy, or whatever your name is? She gives you any trouble or back talk, you call me.”
Lips in a thin line, Tamlu nodded.
Satisfied, he strolled into the bedroom and shut the door.