Two
The sound of the music dimmed as soon as they were in the corridor leading to the private rooms. Percipia felt as if they’d passed through an invisible barrier to another realm. She could hear the dance music, but it sounded so distant that it might have had nothing to do with her.
In contrast, the scent of the Seed seemed to grow more potent and her awareness of Bond’s touch grew even stronger. She could smell his skin, feel his heartbeat, and was keenly aware of his fingertips on the back of her waist. Desire simmered in her veins.
The corridor had many turns, possibly to keep people from seeing who else was there, and the light was dim. Percipia heard the footfalls of someone following at a distance that would ensure he or she was out of sight.
It was a firm tread and she assumed it was one of the men from the club who had been watching Bond. She tensed inside, wondering again what Bond did that required him to have such protection. She’d noticed that he carried a large laze, a comparatively new and powerful version, in a holster on his belt. She suspected that the bulge on his calf was another smaller laze, hidden beneath his pants. Did he have more weapons than that? It wouldn’t have surprised her. She had a knife in her boot. Few people carried weapons openly in Incendium city as it was considered to be so safe.
There was another set of footsteps traveling along the outside of the building. Percipia could just barely discern them, thanks to her keen dragon hearing and her heightened awareness. She guessed it was the second man, keeping step with them.
Where was the woman?
Had the triped staying in the bar?
Percipia felt as she did when she was on the cusp of change, when all of her perceptions were sharper. No, it was even more powerful than that. Her dragon was roused by the scent of the Seed. Percipia realized belatedly that was why everything seemed so much more vivid. She felt passionate and volatile, her dragon not quite as firmly under control as usual. She felt fiercely possessive of Bond and intent upon claiming the Seed from him, regardless of the price.
Would she kill to defend him? Percipia wasn’t a violent person or even a possessive one, but surrounded by the scent of the Seed, she thought she just might.
When she opened the door of their room, she had a momentary glimpse of the second man in the windows of the room, in the alley beyond. Her dragon seethed and she didn’t doubt that the man, even at a distance, caught a glimpse of her reaction in her eyes.
She glanced at Bond but if he’d noticed the man, he hid his reaction well.
Of course, if she was right that the others were guarding him, he would have expected the man’s presence.
The man ducked out of sight, maybe to save his own skin, maybe to follow instructions. Maybe Bond didn’t like to be reminded of the need for his protection. Her father was like that when he left the palace, and she’d heard many arguments between the king and the Captain of the Guard about ensuring his safety.
Percipia’s dragon growled, distrusting the situation.
She touched the control on the wall and shut the blinds, then turned the lights low. All the while, she tried to temper her dragon’s reaction.
Bond closed the door behind them and locked it, leaning back against it with a smile. “What’s your pleasure, Diverta?” he asked in a low voice.
“I told you already.”
“Tell me again.”
“You,” she said, and it was easier the second time. “Naked and willing.”
“I can deliver that,” Bond said, and reached for the front fastening on his garment. With his other hand, he caught Percipia’s nape and drew her into his embrace again, his mouth slanting over hers with a possessiveness that thrilled her.
His kiss recalled her passion and dismissed her agitation. Percipia found herself spearing her fingers into his hair and holding him close to feast upon his mouth. He made a sound of surrender and backed her into the wall, his hands roving over her. She tore open the front of his uniform, wanting to feel his skin, and purred when she slid her hands beneath the fabric. He was as hard and muscled as she’d guessed. She followed her hands with her lips, flicking her tongue across his nipple and grazing it with her teeth.
He groaned, then unfastened her clothes with impatient hands. The tunic was pushed over her shoulders, his hands warm on her skin, then he bent to capture her nipple in his mouth. Percipia arched her back and moaned, loving how he teased her with his teeth and his tongue. She pushed down her pants and he helped her, his hand between her thighs. When he caressed her there, she let out a cry of such yearning that she surprised herself.
“Temptress,” he whispered.
“Tease,” she replied and tugged his uniform over his shoulders. They stumbled to the bed, halfway out of their clothes, kissing and caressing all the while. Percipia kicked off her boots and clothes so that she was naked, and Bond stared at her as he removed his tunic. Oh, he was perfect. Tanned and toned, an ideal specimen of masculinity. She wanted to possess him completely and immediately.
There was an answering awe in his expression that made her want to preen.
“You are beautiful, Diverta,” he whispered, then reached for her.
She had time to blush and lift her face for his kiss before the laser shots came through the door.
Diverta.
With the sound of the first shot, Bond knew he’d been distracted.
On purpose.
And he’d been stupid enough to fall for it. His body had conspired against him, as had the sensation she so expertly conjured, and he hated the weakness of this body. His companion’s name made sense, even though her ploys were as old as time. He gritted his teeth, hating that he’d been so predictable.
The trap to snare him had been baited perfectly to ensure success.
The long volley of shots came through the door, leaving such large smoking holes in it that he could see into the corridor beyond. The assault didn’t do many favors for the room either. The wall display had been shattered and the screen fell to the floor in shards. An alarm went off and the room began to fill with smoke. Annoyance filled Bond, even as he fired back at the unknown assailant with his own laze.
He wanted his old powers back. He wanted to be able to think himself elsewhere. He wanted to know the thoughts of his fellows with perfect clarity to best gauge the threat.
But he would have to run, on his own two feet, with only the information from his own senses.
That sent fury surging through him.
The ruined door was kicked open from the corridor and Bond fired again with gusto, but the attacker had stepped back. As soon as his volley was done, a man appeared silhouetted in the opening and the blaze of laser light came right at Bond.
He tumbled over the bed, taking cover.
Diverta could defend herself. Some instinct urged him to protect her but she’d gotten him into this, and her allies would hardly injure her.
Bond had to save himself.
Fortunately, he was still wearing his pants and boots. He could run, even if he couldn’t fly. He reached for the second laze strapped to his shin and discovered that the holster was empty.
There was a blast as Diverta fired it over his head at the window. He heard a cry of pain and turned to see her nod with grim satisfaction. She was still nude, still magnificent, but now it looked like there was a shimmer of light around the perimeter of her body. Bond blinked but the illusion didn’t disappear.
Was he losing his mind, right before losing his life?
Or maybe someone had given him a drug somehow. He hadn’t consumed anything, but he supposed there could have been an injection. Other than the shimmer around Diverta, though, he couldn’t feel any effects.
That meant it was a possibility to consider later.
Once he survived.
“That’s one,” Diverta said and he realized the attacker outside the window had been silenced. She tilted her head, listening, and Bond watched that glimmer of light brighten. Maybe there was something in the air that prompted visual illusions. He heard fleeing footsteps in the corridor. “The second is giving it up.” Her gaze met his and she smiled. “I guess they weren’t your friends after all.”
They?
“Who?”
She descended from the bed, seizing her clothes and briskly dressed. He put out his hand but she didn’t surrender his laze. “Four of them in the club, watching you. I thought they were your guard.”
“Four?” Bond was shocked. He’d been followed by four assailants and not noticed? Diverta’s power to distract him was terrifying.
But she’d killed one of them. To defend him or confuse him?
Whose side was she on?
He wanted to dip into her thoughts so badly that it hurt.
“Describe them!” he demanded.
“Two men.” She went to the window and peered around the shutter, then opened it. She glanced down at the ground. “Recognize him?”
Bond joined her warily, looking up and down the alley beyond the window before he considered the corpse. He couldn’t help but admire that the man had been felled with a single shot to the heart through a shuttered window. He’d have to remember that Diverta was a good shot.
Then he glimpsed into the attacker’s heart, recoiling from the stain of darkness upon his soul. He shot him between the eyes, ensuring that his life was extinguished, then stepped back.
“No,” he admitted to his companion. “Never seen him before.”
Diverta grimaced. “That’s inconvenient.”
Bond didn’t tell her that the man’s identity was irrelevant. He knew who had hired the four—now three—and that was plenty of information.
Running from the Gloria Furore was seldom a successful venture.
And he hadn’t been as clever as he’d thought.
“You’re a good shot,” he said warily.
“My sister insisted upon it.” Diverta acted as if this was common, and maybe it was common in Incendium for sisters who were sirens to train with firearms.
Sisters who worked together to distract potential victims.
What if she wasn’t really a siren?
She smiled at him. “You’re not bad yourself.”
A crackling voice came through the comm unit in the room in that moment.
“Someone wants an explanation,” Diverta said, then raised her voice. “Just a party!” she called and the voice replied, though Bond couldn’t understand the words. Diverta shot the comm out with a single blast from the laze and it fell silent.
And the music from the club grew louder, as if the volume had been turned up.
“They’ll investigate that,” Bond said.
“So, we should leave before they do,” she replied, her manner pragmatic. “Coming?”
Bond shoved a hand through his hair and took a step away from his surprising companion. Who was she really? What did she want from him? He bent to retrieve his tunic, not quite turning his back upon her. “But you said there were four.”
“A woman and a triped. We passed the triped on the way back here.” Diverta was checking the charge on the laze, her movements revealing that she was familiar with such weapons.
“With a drink at the bar,” Bond remembered. “I didn’t recognize him, either.”
She gave him a steady look, assessment in her eyes. “So, you’re being hunted, not protected. Who are you really and what have you done?”
It was disconcerting to have anything in common with her, even if it was a desire for information.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said and put out his hand. “Give me my laze.”
“I think it does matter,” she replied, keeping the weapon from him. Her eyes narrowed. “What are the scars on your back?”
Bond caught his breath. He was sure she shouldn’t have been able to see them. He’d kept his back turned and tried to be quick when getting his tunic.
The way her eyes glittered made him think that she didn’t miss much.
And she hadn’t been as surprised by the attack as he had been.
What did that remind him of? Or who? His memories seemed to be slipping through his fingers, like sand. Was he wrong about the clarity of her soul?
“What scars?”
She gestured with the laze—his laze—and he realized the broken display screen would have acted like a mirror when it wasn’t powered up. “Those two diagonal lines on your back. They look old and deep.”
“Old injuries,” he lied with a shrug. “Line of duty.”
“And what duty is that?”
“Am I being interrogated?” he asked, keeping his tone teasing.
“They must have hurt,” she said. “How were you attacked? And why like that? There are easier ways to stab someone in the heart or lungs...” She paused. “It looks as if you were deliberately disfigured.”
“It’s not important,” Bond said firmly, closing his tunic and shoving his laze back into the holster. It blinked as it recharged and he was glad he’d invested in the better chargers. It was already a third done. He headed for the door but Diverta didn’t move.
In fact, she was in his path.
Now she was neither a seductress nor an innocent, but a practical commando.
Bond refused to be fascinated.
Her expression was stern. “If you have a weakness, I need to know what it is.”
“No, you don’t.” He put out his hand again. “Give me the laze, Diverta.” He said her name with enough emphasis that she’d know he realized it was an alias.
Instead of doing what he asked, she spun the laze on one finger. He hoped she had the safety on. “So, you’re not really surprised to be hunted, and even though you’ve decided that I was part of some plot to kill you, you aren’t asking who I’m working for.” She eyed him. “That means you already know who’s after you.”
“It’s not your business.”
“Of course it is! They shot at me, too.” She wagged the weapon at him and he didn’t trust her control of it enough to make a grab for it. His survival felt precarious in this moment, and it wasn’t thrilling. “Because I wasn’t part of a plot to corner you, which makes me a second potential victim. I don’t have a sense of humor about anyone trying to kill me.”
“I’m glad we have something in common. Give me the laze and go back to your sisters.”
She tilted her head to study him and he noticed the glitter of her eyes. It was assessing and once again, he was sure she not only read his thoughts but calculated his intentions. “Where will you go?”
“Away.”
“Where?”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
“Just tell me that you have a plan.” She smiled, inviting him to do as much. “Tell me that you know your exact coordinates in Incendium city and that you know a way to get out of town, unobserved.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll worry about you otherwise.”
Bond frowned at this emotional ploy and its effectiveness.
“Or tell me that you have a friend in town who isn’t trying to kill you.” She arched a brow when he didn’t reply. “Or a stash of weapons somewhere.”
Bond scowled at her.
“A hidden Starpod?” she invited.
“I don’t need to review any of this with you.”
“Powers that no one can discern until you use them?”
“Give me the laze.”
Diverta shook her head and shoved the laze into her belt. “I can help you.”
“You’ve helped me enough, thanks.” Should he abandon the laze and just go? It was tempting, but he might need all the firepower he could get.
Three against one. And time ticking away. Bond felt cold perspiration slide down his spine. He was ready to have those wings back. “Give me the laze.”
“Do you know anyone in Incendium city?” she asked. She didn’t give Bond a chance to reply, which was good because he wouldn’t have told her anything. “I’m guessing that you just got off a starship or freighter. You’re certainly not from here because I’d have noticed you.”
“You don’t know that...”
“Oh, I do,” she said with complete conviction and took a deep breath. “I would have smelled your scent,” she murmured, her eyes glowing with that sensual intent again.
Bond paced the room rather than look at her, because his body was responding rapidly to the sight of her arousal. He didn’t need to be distracted again.
“I assume you have a point,” he said tersely.
Bond laughed even though he was starting to wonder. “I don’t think so.”
“I do.” She held up a finger for silence and looked again like she was shimmering. Her eyes brightened to a blue glitter he couldn’t even look at without narrowing his eyes. Had he heard a footfall? He wasn’t sure, not with the pulse of the dance music coming from the club.
“I think you should come with me,” Diverta said, her voice louder. “I’ll get you back to the Star Station. I know a way around the lines.”
Bond opened his mouth to argue that he had no intention of returning to the Star Station, but Diverta suddenly spun and fired the laze toward the door. Her shot sliced perfectly through one of the existing holes and Bond was impressed by her prowess again. There was a grunt and he heard someone swear softly in Forludian, then footsteps retreated.
He stared at Diverta, wondering how she’d heard the attacker.
“The triped,” she said under her breath. “The rhythm of the footfalls was unmistakable.”
He went to what remained of the door and looked down the corridor but the triped was gone.
Diverta grimaced. “Sorry but I’ve chosen one direction we can’t go now. I assumed you had something to do here, not at the Star Station.”
Bond realized she’d let the triped escape, with incorrect information. He thought he’d made a good spy, but Diverta was doing better than him in this situation.
He swore under his breath in Forludian, too. It was a good language for expressing frustration.
Diverta confronted him, as regal as a queen, her manner expectant. “So, do we have a partnership?”
Who was she?
Did it matter?
“How did we get to partners?” he asked with exasperation.
“I won’t help you on any other terms.”
“What exactly do you want?”
Her smile was unabashedly sensual. “I already told you,” she murmured, her eyes glowing.
He’d pay for her help with sex.
It was more than a tempting proposition.
The incredible thing was that he still wanted her, although he didn’t want to lose sight of her. He didn’t trust her. He couldn’t trust her. But his attraction to her was undiminished.
If she’d led the attackers to him, it might be smarter to keep her within sight.
“Do we have a deal?” she asked, her voice husky.
Bond realized he might not get out of Incendium city without assistance, much less survive until the rendezvous, and the only one offering that kind of help was Diverta. She’d made a good argument.
He’d take advantage of her offer. He didn’t have to trust her. He didn’t have to sleep before they escaped the city. As soon as possible, he’d continue on his quest, meet the Host and return to the celestial realm.
With few choices and little time, Bond had to work with the options available.
“We do,” he said and offered his hand.
Diverta smiled, those ripe lips curving in invitation as she closed the distance between them. “I think this requires more than a handshake,” she murmured, then slid her free hand around the back of his neck. He shivered at the surety of her touch and his blood quickened in anticipation. “Maybe an expression of good will to seal the deal.” Bond had time to smile then she captured his lips with hers.
She tasted so good.
She felt so good.
He had the strange sense that he’d been waiting for her, all his days and nights in the mortal realm, and that odd conviction that being with Diverta would exceed every other pleasure he’d sampled.
He had to know.
Bond, as much as he knew it would be smart to do otherwise, closed his eyes in satisfaction, drew her into his embrace and deepened their kiss.
This siren’s touch was so seductive that it was pure heaven.
Even as she kissed Bond, Percipia was wondering. How was she going to seduce the Carrier of the Seed if they were on the run? How would she claim the Seed once he left the city and her? She had to save his life first, then seduce him quickly, and do it before he left Incendium. Maybe it wouldn’t be a permanent rescue, just a temporary one.
She wouldn’t think about any possibility of watching him die.
Percipia needed a sanctuary and there was only one that would do.
Actually, she could think of two, but she wouldn’t take the Carrier to the palace even with this change of situation. It wasn’t a question of offending her father’s sensibilities anymore. It was a question of safety—both his and that of her family.
The palace would be secure if she could get Bond inside, but Percipia doubted they’d make it that far. She had a strong sense that his attackers would guess that destination and make a last effort to kill the Carrier. That would launch a firestorm outside the gates and Bond could be killed—before she claimed the Seed.
No, the other solution was the one that would work best.
Although it still offered challenges.
The wounded triped would follow them, but might believe that they were headed for the star port. The second man could be anywhere and might be injured. The woman could be anywhere, as well.
They needed to flee immediately.
But Bond’s kiss was too potent to be cut short. His touch distracted Percipia from practicalities with an increasingly familiar power. If it hadn’t been for the Seed, his influence over her would have been vastly diminished. If it hadn’t been for the Seed, her dragon wouldn’t have been so alert and observant. It was a strange combination that Percipia knew would only become exhausting.
It also meant that she had to claim the Seed as soon as possible, for the safety of both of them.
Which cast another vote for the other sanctuary, since it was closer.
She tore her lips from his with reluctance, her heart racing. “We have to go.”
“You were the one who wanted a kiss,” he said, his expression so intense that she knew he wanted more. “We’re alone for the moment...”
“There is no door securing the room,” she reminded him.
“I’m not that shy.”
Percipia smiled. “I am. Let’s go.”
He stretched out his hand. “My laze?”
“It’s mine for the foreseeable future.” At his visible concern, she continued. “You can have it back when we’re safe and our deal is complete.” She could see that he didn’t like that, but he didn’t argue any more.
Instead, he checked the charge on the one he still carried. He gave her a warning look. “We’ll probably be ambushed as soon as we leave.”
“That’ll give us a chance to reduce their numbers again.”
“I like how you think.” His smile flashed, then he gestured to the window. “Let’s be unpredictable,” he said, his expression revealing that it was his preference. No sooner had Percipia nodded than he jumped and kicked out the window pane with one foot. It fell into the street below and shattered.
She was impressed by his agility, but there was no time to compliment him. Bond was on the sill, looking into the alley.
It was silent.
Percipia hesitated. “So I can draw their fire?”
“Because you know the way to wherever you’ve decided we should go.”
Percipia couldn’t argue with that. She glanced back at the smoking doorway behind them, thought she heard a footfall, and nodded. She leaped to the sill then jumped into the night without hesitation, hearing Bond close behind her.
She supposed she could count on him to keep up.
She gave him a warning look, then began to run.
Diverta was faster than Bond had expected.
She ran silently without becoming out of breath, as if she was used to running a lot. He quickly became aware that he hadn’t used the exercise room on the Archangel with nearly enough frequency. The stronger force of gravity was wearying to him, as well, as he should have anticipated. He hadn’t thought he needed to train, not so close to the end of his mission.
It wasn’t reassuring to discover that he’d been wrong.
Or to have to acknowledge the limitations of his physical form again.
Bond felt obtrusive as he followed Diverta, well aware of the heavy sounds of his own boots on the cobbled streets and seeing his own shadow on the ground. Diverta seemed to be one with the shadows, and to move as swiftly—and as unobtrusively—as the wind. It took everything he had just to keep up.
She charted a twisted course, winding down toward the river. Although they doubled back on their path a number of times and made so many feints that he was almost disoriented, their path slanted steadily downward. Her destination must be the port, he reasoned, which had to be a good place to find a way out of the city. In his experience, disreputable deeds occurred near ports and illegal assistance could be more readily found there. Diverta jumped a fence and cut through a small yard behind a house, then did it again, probably making sure it was difficult for them to be followed.
Bond thought he heard footsteps in pursuit at first, but soon there was silence.
At the quiet port, she pivoted in a dark alley, then darted through an area that looked less prosperous. He heard the sounds from a few taverns and bars, but Diverta didn’t enter any of them. They wound their way up a hill, using service alleys and back lanes. The homes became larger and more prosperous in appearance and he wondered if they were close to the palace. He wasn’t entirely certain where they were and began to worry about his reliance upon her.
She could be leading him directly into danger.
He liked it less when she paused outside a darkened doorway. She glanced back then slid open a panel he hadn’t noticed. Bond leaned on the wall beside her, struggling to catch his breath. Diverta tapped in an access code and he memorized it by force of habit.
A light flashed and she swore softly under her breath. “They changed it,” she muttered, with obvious frustration.
Bond glanced back. Even though he couldn’t hear their pursuers, he knew they were coming after him. Wherever it was that Diverta wanted to lead him had to be better than waiting to be shot, with his own lazes still charging.
She raised a hand to the panel but he caught her wrist in his grip. “How many tries?” he asked in a low voice.
She held up three fingers.
“Do you know previous codes?”
She whispered two of them to him. “But they’re no good anymore.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re useless. Let me.”
She stepped aside immediately, which surprised Bond. He laid his hands on the panel and closed his eyes, gathering impressions from the panel. He’d already noticed its manufacturer and taken a rough guess at its vintage. That limited the algorithmic possibilities. He pressed his ear to the panel then tried one key. He listened to the resonance of it within the lock, then repeated that with another. All the while, he was computing possibilities and similarities from the combination Diverta had used and the historical codes she’d shared.
Lock combinations and passcodes were often developed by the same mind for the same system. He never understood the part of his mind that solved these riddles. It wasn’t magic, but a calculation, one that happened at such lightning speed that he was unaware of the entire process.
He cleared the test entries he’d made and input one number. It resonated within the lock. He tried a second, smiling when it did the same. The third rang false. He cleared it, tried another and another, then impulsively tried a third, which resonated.
He needed the fourth key.
“They’re coming,” Diverta whispered, although Bond couldn’t hear them. He stared at the lock, reviewing the other combinations, seeking the pattern, refusing to be rushed even though he knew time was of the essence.
He guessed.
He was wrong.
Diverta caught her breath, but Bond envisioned the code then, unique and yet consistent.
He tapped it in and gave her a cocky smile as the locked opened.
“So, you are that Bond,” she whispered, then beckoned to him.
Bond froze. She knew his identity? That seemed a bad portent.
But Diverta was urging him into the shadows, and even he could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. She scanned the alley behind them, his laze at the ready. Bond hesitated only for a heartbeat before moving into the darkness.
He had no better solutions, after all, and he wasn’t at his best.
Diverta closed the door and they were plunged into blackness together. The air was cold and damp and he shivered. She put a hand upon his shoulder, and he recognized it was a warning. They remained there, silent and still.
Footsteps ran past the door on the other side, then more footsteps could be heard. Bond didn’t even dare to breathe. He heard the murmur of conversation but couldn’t discern the words. There must have been three of them, because he heard their footsteps leave in different directions.
Diverta gave him a little push and he stepped in the direction she urged, discovering that there were stairs descending there. He felt the walls, which were smooth and cold. There was a tunnel or narrow hallway before him, one that descending into the dark.
To where?
To who?
His heart clenched but he had no choice but to trust Diverta.
And use both hands.
Bond couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t smell anything but water and damp stone. He certainly couldn’t shoot anything with accuracy.
“Wet down there?” he asked, barely giving voice to the words.
“Not if we’re lucky,” she replied.
But his pursuers hadn’t followed them here.
Yet.
Bond shoved his laze in his holster and began the descent, aware of Diverta right behind him.
Convincing Sansor to help was going to be a challenge.
Percipia tried to plan what she was going to say to convince her friend, but failed completely. She’d just have to hope she could persuade him or awaken his compassion, maybe because their situation was so dire.
He was her oldest and best friend.
She just hoped that was good enough to make him an ally.
It didn’t help that things had been so awkward between them since he’d kissed her and she hadn’t responded with enthusiasm. In fact, she’d resented him trying to change the course of their established friendship.
It might have been better to have kept that reaction to herself.
Percipia focused on the task at hand first. It was easy to navigate the corridors used by the merchants to move their goods from the docks to their cellars and shops. The walls were either polished stone or smooth metal, depending on what had been unearthed when the tunnel had been bored. Where there had been stone, it was polished to a gleam. Where there had been earth, metal barrier walls had been installed to hold it back. The network stretched beneath most of Incendium city, a hidden labyrinth that few citizens used and most had probably forgotten about. Thanks to her time with Sansor, Percipia knew it well. Bond didn’t hesitate once she urged him onward and she was glad of his confidence.
Although she could respect his wariness.
She’d entered at a side spur of the system, not wanting to make the obvious choice of entering at the port. This meant they had to go back to the main passageway, the broad underground thoroughfare that led from the port to the shops in the highest street. It was easy to tell that they were alone in the small side spur, but they could only reach the apothecary by using the main passage, with its stairs.
She hoped their pursuers didn’t figure that out.
They’d have to be pretty stupid not to just wait in the main passageway, though, which was perfectly straight with nowhere to hide.
At least Bond’s breathing was slowing and his footfalls made less sound. She felt foolish for not considering that he’d been in space for some period of time, and thus would be less accustomed to the pull of gravity.
They reached the great junction and she pulled him back, easing forward to listen for other footsteps.
“What is this network for?” Bond whispered.
“Trade,” Percipia replied, thinking his curiosity was badly timed. Was he trying to get killed? She couldn’t hear a thing, but she had a bad feeling. The main passage was too wide and too straight: the many smaller passages leading from it meant that there were countless openings where someone could lurk. Water flowed in a wide metal-lined channel down the middle of this passageway—to ease transportation up and down the hill—and a pulley system in the roof could be used to haul goods uphill. Usually, Percipia admired the clever solution. On this night, she was annoyed that the trickle of the falling water was loud enough to disguise the sounds of others.
She decided she was too suspicious, probably due to the influence of the Seed.
Even if she wasn’t, there was nothing to be gained by waiting, except that doing so would give the assailants more time to figure out where they’d gone.
Percipia directed Bond to the right and up the broader thoroughfare. The stairs flanked that central canal.
They had to make it to the third opening on the right, high above their current position.
Percipia felt a tingle as soon as they stepped into the open and saw with dismay that she was shimmering, on the cusp of change. The light would betray them both!
Abandoning caution, Percipia broke into a run. She had Bond’s hand fast in hers and pretty much tugged him up the stairs. Once he learned the height of the steps, he gained speed and ran almost beside her.
“Perfect precision,” he murmured. “Even in stone.”
“This is Incendium,” Percipia replied quietly, realizing too late how their voices echoed.
The laze shot fired past them on the left, illuminating the tunnel in a blaze of red light. It only missed them because Percipia seized Bond and hauled him into the opening on the right. They flattened themselves against the wall as the second shot fired and their gazes met in the illumination cast by the blaze.
At least he wasn’t afraid.
Maybe he should be.
“High power,” he said just mouthing the words.
Percipia nodded. “They weren’t sure of the distance.”
“They are now.” She could feel him looking intently at her before he whispered. “Go. Save yourself.”
She shook her head. “We have a deal.”
“They won’t hunt you if they have me.”
His conviction was interesting and again, she was reminded of her idea that he knew who followed him—and probably why. “They won’t get either of us if we stay together.”
“But...” he began to argue, but Percipia heard footsteps. She seized him and placed her lips against his ear.
“Next opening on the right,” she whispered, then stepped to the end of the passage. The laze was two-thirds charged and she appreciated that Bond had good equipment.
She listened, heard the footstep, then stepped into the main passageway and fired.
She saw the beam hit the one on the right, but couldn’t immediately be sure if it was the man or the woman. The other leaped the central channel, revealing her feminine silhouette, and dragged the fallen man into a side passage, covering the move with a relentless volley of fire.
Where was the triped?
Percipia backed into the side alley again. She immediately felt Bond’s hand on her shoulder and gritted her teeth that he hadn’t done as she’d instructed.
“Go,” he said, and she did, trusting him even in her annoyance. There was a shot that came precariously close and she swore under her breath.
Then Bond fired back, probably from the same position she’d taken.
Percipia reached the passage and pivoted in place. She waited, then took a quick look down the main passageway. She could almost discern the woman’s figure far below them. A shot rang out, Bond lunged past Percipia and into the side passage, then she fired in return to cover them.
The blaze had come too close for comfort, too close for coincidence or good aim.
“Heat-seeking artillery,” she muttered, knowing why the attacker’s aim was so accurate in the dark. It was illegal on Incendium, because it was so destructive.
Bond didn’t reply. She inhaled and smelled blood, then reached for him and felt its slick warmth on his arm.
“Upper arm,” he said tersely. “Not so bad.”
Percipia swore in Forludian and heard him chuckle.
“I have one more good shot,” she said, eyeing the charge on the laze. “Don’t go anywhere.” He nodded agreement. She eased back to the opening and listened, trusting her dragon to discern the slightest sound. She waited in complete stillness and finally, she heard it.
One person pursuing them.
The woman.
Percipia waited for the attacker to come closer, gauging the distance from the last seen location and the number of the footfalls. She waited longer than she wanted to, knowing that the stone would amplify every sound. She waited a little longer, then heard Bond catch his breath. She looked down and saw that she was shimmering slightly around her perimeter.
Of course. The Carrier of the Seed was imperiled.
And there was no longer any debate about the sanctuary. In the light she cast, she saw the blood flowing over Bond’s fingers. He needed to be healed and Sansor would have to be convinced to do it.
They had to run, now.
Percipia stepped into the main passageway, took her stance and fired directly at the heart of the attacker. It was the woman and she wasn’t twenty steps away. The laze blossomed into a brilliant corona of light on impact and the woman fell backward with a cry. Percipia heard the woman’s body hit the stairs and then roll down toward the port, clearly unable to stop herself.
“Dead?” Bond whispered, and she realized he was right behind her.
“Close enough,” Percipia replied and he wondered. The laze was smoking and devoid of charge, so she gave it back to him then grabbed his hand. “This way.”