Chapter 40
“IF WE HAD A private party scheduled, I’ve forgotten,” Drake said, his eyes scanning for others besides the two near the door. To keep people out? Or in?
“Oh, we’re going to have a private party, Davorin,” Jakel said, and his dark tone was made even more ominous by the note of delighted anticipation that underlay it. “And you’ll be the guest of honor.”
So it was him the beast wanted. Did he know? He could not, he was not that bright. But he might suspect . . . something.
“Drake, get out. He’s evil, he’ll—ahh!” Eirlys’s words ended on a yelp of pain.
Every muscle in his body went tense. He wanted nothing more than to blast Jakel to bits right now. With lightning speed, he calculated distances, reaction times, probable responses. Anyway he figured, Eirlys got hurt at best, and the worst didn’t bear thinking about.
Jakel nodded toward the two troopers. Drake pretended not to see them move toward him, and casually walked behind the bar. The two hesitated, looking to Jakel.
“Jakel, Jakel, let’s be reasonable,” Drake said, adding a well-practiced nervous laugh, while his inward laugh at the idea of this man being reasonable about anything was very real. “Let’s talk about it. Over a brew? Or perhaps some of that lingberry you so like. On the house, of course.”
He turned as if to take the bottle from the shelf behind him. Saw in the mirror the two troopers, still standing where they’d stopped. Drones, he assessed. No move made without exact orders.
Or they were uncertain of the task at hand, he thought as one of them gave Jakel a sideways look.
“Don’t take me for a fool, Davorin.”
“I don’t.” You’re not quite stupid enough. “What is it you want, then?”
“I know you’re working with that brigand, and you’ll confess to it before I’m through.”
He felt a spark of relief. Jakel suspected something, but not the truth. He widened his eyes as if fearful. “Brigand? There’s some sort of thug on the loose?”
Jakel swore, an oath that was half slur, half ugly promise. “You know bedamned well who I mean. You’re working with that Raider.”
Drake let his expression change to one of sudden understanding. He laughed, carefully judging how to make it sound. “Well-done prank, Jakel. You had me worried.”
“Take him!”
The two troopers began to move toward him again. He threw up his hands. “Hold, here,” he said, letting every bit of the fear he had for his sister echo in his voice. The two men stopped. Apparently, they took orders from anyone. Or else their hearts really weren’t in this, he thought, seeing the way they looked at the brute who had brought them here. “This is absurd, Jakel. You know I am . . . not of the temperament to get involved in such things. And everyone knows I think the Raider is mad, at the least, to even try to go up against the Coalition.”
His words rang with veracity, because they were true. He’d known it was mad from the beginning.
For the first time, Jakel looked uncertain. But his determination, or innate obstinate inflexibility won out. “I know I am right, and I will soon have the proof. From you.”
He calculated his next words carefully, for he had seen Jakel loosen his grip on Eirlys in his moment of doubt.
“Let us go to Barcon then, and talk of this. He is your administrator; let him decide.”
“Do you think he will help you?” Jakel sneered. “He wishes this as much as I do. He only lacks the nerve to command it.”
So he’d been right. However much Barcon Ordam might want this, he wouldn’t give the order. But he wouldn’t stop his wild slimehog, either.
“But I’m sure he never meant you to involve Eirlys,” Drake said. “He has always been very fond of her.”
That put another flash of doubt in Jakel’s soulless eyes. Before the man could speak, he gestured to Eirlys. “But I must take him something. A gift.” He laughed again, differently, as a man who wouldn’t hesitate to try and bribe his way out of trouble. “Eirlys, there is a bottle of that particular brand he likes in back. Go.”
He saw her register the slightest emphasis he’d put on the word “brand,” as Jakel snapped, “She doesn’t leave this room until I have you secured. Take him!”
The troopers rushed this time. Rounded the end of the bar. Drake slapped a hand down on the surface he’d polished so often. Leapt, clearing it easily, coming down on the other side within a few feet of Jakel. Saw the man jerk back. He pretended to stumble upon landing, careening into Jakel.
In an instant, his dagger was at the man’s throat. But Jakel managed to keep a grip on Eirlys’s arm, despite her struggle; the man was brutally strong. The only good thing was, he couldn’t both hang onto her and fight off Drake at the same time.
Clearly uncertain, the troopers raised their blasters.
“Don’t fire!” Jakel yelled. Apparently he did not trust their ability to miss him.
“Let go of her,” Drake said.
“Then they will shoot you.”
“And likely hit you. But if they do not, I will surely cut your throat.”
“I will order them to shoot her!”
He would. Drake could see it in his small, shiny eyes. He could also see the dawning of understanding in the eerily red depths; Jakel was beginning to realize that no cowardly, beaten tapper would manage to get a blade to his throat, let alone with two troopers in the room. He would be more convinced than ever now that Drake was more than he seemed.
And more determined to extract that information.
He couldn’t think about that now. Not while the beast still had Eirlys. “Let her go,” he said, “and I will release you.”
“I don’t believe you,” Jakel said. “They would kill you instantly.”
“I don’t think so. For that would spoil your fun, would it not?”
He saw it again, that feral, brutal maliciousness, in Jakel’s expression. Knew the man had no intention of going to Barcon before he had that fun. He was thankful for the cool numbness that had overtaken him, for it kept at bay his dread of what was to come. Everyone in Zelos had heard the tales of Jakel’s glee in torture. But he could see no other way. No way that was not too great a risk for Eirlys, and he could not see her hurt, or worse. He could not.
“Let her go,” he repeated, “and I will go with you.”
Jakel went still. “Without a fight?”
“Drake, no. You can’t.” Eirlys’s voice was tight, strained. He could see her fear, see that she knew what awaited him. “I won’t let you.”
“You must. Go. As I told you,” he added, reminding her of his allusion to what was in the storeroom.
He moved his dagger, away from Jakel’s throat, yet kept it close.
“Drop it,” Jakel ordered.
“When she is gone.”
“Again you take me for a fool.”
“Let her get to the back doorway. Then I will drop it.”
Jakel thought, his brow furrowed with the effort. After an agonizing moment, he let go of her arm.
“Drake!”
“Go,” he ordered, in the low, harsh voice of the Raider. “Now.”
He could see the anguish in her face as she backed up, never taking her eyes from him. He held his breath. Once she got to the doorway, she would be safe; Brander would take over. He would see to her.
She reached the doorway. The troopers raised their weapons. Aimed at him. Jakel jerked away. Enough to give them a clear shot. No choice. He dropped the dagger.
The troopers closed in. Eirlys vanished from the doorway. Drake knew he’d seen a hand grab her from inside the storeroom. Brander. She would be all right.
He, on the other hand, was headed into hades.