Selia could feel the blood drain from her face. The fact Lucien knew so much about her wasn’t overly surprising. Spies were everywhere in this city and if the price was right, loyalties could be bought. Being told the coordinates of her island homeland might be made public, however, was beyond frightening: It was horrific and troublesome. There were secrets there that did not need to become a part of the whole wide world.
She suspected the reasons the Families kept it silent was because they wanted all the imports, and thus the profit from the island, for themselves, but it could be catastrophic if news spread. Raids would happen, invasions, and the entire way of life on Temeria would be disrupted. Not to mention the ecology.
Selia knew what the foolish humans around the world did to their own ecologies, decimating and causing the extinctions of animals and plants for no reason other than greed. She did not want to see that happen to her homeland.
“That’s right, Selia,” Lucien continued when she didn’t speak. “Alfi plans to sell it to the highest bidder. It doesn’t matter. We want the return of that information, since he managed to wipe it from the computer at the same time it was downloaded to the flash drive.” He again turned his eyes to her. “There are only four people with the knowledge of your homeland. Myself, Angelo, Soren, and Ignacio. We wish to keep it that way.”
“Very well,” Selia replied. “I’ll get the information back to you. What about the other questions?”
“Tenacious.” Lucien sounded like he approved. He probably did. She kept silent and Lucien chuckled before continuing. “As someone who was trained on the island, you are skilled, far more skilled than any of us, in the art of war. Angelo is a fool for not using your talents.”
“Now, now, that is my beloved uncle you’re speaking poorly of,” Selia said, her tone light, yet warning. “I prefer keeping a low profile. Had Alfi not pulled me into this storm, I’d still be keeping a low profile.”
Lucien laughed. It was the kind of laugh that starts in the belly and bursts forth in true merriment. “Ah, girl, you are amusing. Something would have eventually lit your fire and you’d be stepping out away from the wall, just as you are now.”
He shook his head, setting the glass into a holder. “I didn’t get where I am today by believing foolish ideals. Someone who was raised to fight would never remain in the background their entire life, not when it wasn’t their choice. You remained against the wall, pretending to be a docile lamb out of need. Now you step out due to need: the wolf reclaiming its true nature. You won’t be the same after this and I’m looking forward to seeing what carnage you will bring.”
So that was it, Selia realized. Lucien was hoping she’d step into the limelight and bring chaos down around her and the Lascaris. And during that chaos, he would be able to step in and take over the Lascari territory.
That wasn’t going to happen, though. Sure, there were warriors in her homeland that thrived upon laying waste to everything around her, but she had been taught control. She controlled her desires, not the other way around. Well, at least the violent desires.
“Only time will tell,” Selia stated. “Did you need any more answers, today?”
“Yes, I do.” Lucien leaned in and for a moment she thought Lucien was going to try and kiss her. Instead, he asked, “Without knowing what the information was, you came to me to offer its return and the death of those responsible. Why?”
Selia knew she should have expected a question of that sort. Just how honest should she be with Lucien?
“Alfi nearly killed Soren," Selia replied slowly. “He stole from you, and I've been told to stay out of it by Angelo.” She smiled slightly. “You have the most to lose and the most to gain by my offer.”
“If Soren had not been injured, do you think you would be here, making such offers?” Lucien countered, without answering her question.
Selia tilted her head to the side, considering the possible scenarios that could have occurred before coming to a conclusion.
“Does it matter?” she finally asked. “I'm Temerian, Lucien. We don't reflect on knowing the impossible. We reflect on the decisions we did or didn't make and their consequences, so we might make better choices in the future.”
Lucien took a long moment to ponder her words before nodding. “I think that is not the answer I was looking for, but it will do for the time being,” he said, and that seemed to be the end of the conversation.
“I have one last question: How did the Families learn of Temeria?”
“Now that is a tale only to be told over a long meal,” Lucien replied slyly. “There were journals and diaries that told the whole story, but they’ve been lost for decades. The truth, however, is known to those who take over the business. Perhaps you should ask Angelo, and if he doesn’t desire to discuss it, come see me. I’ll treat you to a feast and a tale worthy of the meal.”
Or she could just look for the journals and diaries. That idea appealed to her far more than asking either patriarch the story of how they discovered her homeland. She had what she wanted, though, which was enough for her. At least for now.
“I appreciate your time and troubles, Lucien,” she said formally. “When Alfi is dead and I have your information, I’ll contact you.”
“I’ll be looking forward to your call,” Lucien replied smoothly. “I do have one final question for you.” Selia nodded and he gave a sly smile as he asked, “How did you happen to have the Sandman rescue you?”
That question made her laugh. She replied, “I batted my lashes, flashed my boobs, and cried on his shoulder.”
“Ah, you spotted him nearby and used your magic,” Lucien said thoughtfully.
Selia shrugged, uncomfortable with the fact Lucien was aware of her magical abilities. “Maybe, maybe not. A girl’s got to have her secrets, doesn’t she?”
Lucien laughed heartily. “I’ll give you that one.” He rapped on the window and the door beside Selia opened and a hand appeared in the doorway. Selia nodded again to the Vaschetti patriarch and accepted the proffered hand.
“Oh, and Selia,” Lucien called. Selia leaned down to look into the limo and Lucien added, “I’ll keep my men out of your way. Perhaps you shouldn’t get too enthusiastic and kill any of my boys, hmmm?”
“They’ll only die if they get too close,” Selia replied. “But I assure you, my only target is Alfi.”
Lucien nodded once and turned away from her, a dismissal if she’d ever seen one. She straightened and nodded to the bodyguard before striding back the way she came.
Once out of earshot, she said softly, “You get all that?”
The Sandman’s voice filled her ear, almost as though he were inside her head. “I’ll wait for you on the roof.”
Selia smiled into the darkness. “I’ll meet you there.”
Things were getting more interesting. The stakes had risen, but she wasn’t ready to call. Not yet. There were plenty of questions for Soren and she’d have to eventually tell him about Lucien. Her thoughts were on the information she’d just received and figuring out where to go next.
Chapter Fourteen
T he Sandman wasn’t on the roof by the time Selia got there. Puzzled, she walked the perimeter. Pulling out the small ear bud he had given her from a pocket –she hadn’t seen a reason to keep it in when she was about ten minutes from him, not to mention it felt weird- and replaced it.
The sound of scuffling and a sharp yelp that didn’t sound like the Sandman greeted her immediately. Rolling her eyes, she held up a hand and spoke the words to a spell. Finding her companion, she decided, was far more important than waiting around for his eventual reappearance.
She used a simple locator spell that required only a name and some knowledge of the person she sought. The more powerful her connection with the person, the better the spell worked. Considering she had a great deal of affection and trust for the Sandman, she had no doubts about whether the spell would work.
A small blue dot formed on the palm of her hand, near
her thumb, which was currently pointing towards the opposite side of the building. As she jogged across the roof, the blue dot moved closer to the center of her palm and grew brighter. She looked down, ignoring the sounds of the fight in her ear.
She didn’t bother searching for him, and instead started running down the fire escape as quickly and silently as a jungle cat. Though a slight rattle sounded out every so often, she was nearly as silent as the Sandman had been upon their first meeting. Of course, she also didn’t have as much experience with metal stairs as he obviously did.
Pausing about halfway down the stairs, Selia now had surround-sound of the fight: One half from the ear bud, the other from the fight directly below her. That, however, wasn’t why she stopped. Selia knew she needed to hide her features.
Shoving a hand into a pocket, she pulled out a scarf and wrapped it over her hair, above her nose, and around her neck, pulling it tight against her skin. Though the scarf made for a flimsy disguise, it was the best available. Something was better than nothing.
Ignoring the drop- it was shorter than most she’d dealt with on Temeria- she jumped over the edge and landed in a crouch. Standing, she lightly dusted her hands together, dispelling the magic. The brilliant blue light from her hand drifted away into the darkness.
Moving towards the back of the alley, Selia realized she was heading towards the back of a business near the loading dock. She paused as she neared where the Sandman fought, hearing voices to her left.
“Hey, that’s the Sandman taking out our competition!” a youthful voice exclaimed.
“Yeah, but once he’s done, he’ll be tired,” an older man replied, authority in each word. “We can take him, then, and the families will have to respect us.”
There was a murmur of about five different voices, all in agreement.
“Looks like there are some others who have the same idea,” another voice suddenly said.
“Come on, let’s get him and them.” It was the youth again.
That’s right, kids, Selia thought, slowly sliding the swords from their sheaths. Go on past me and we’ll see who is taken out.
She’d worn the blades upside down, secured on her back beneath the trench, for just this reason: The ability to unsheathe them with ease and as little noise as possible.
Peeking around the edge of the building, Selia saw the newcomers a few feet from the Sandman, who was breaking wrists and ankles. The fight was intricate, and the Sandman systematically laid the thugs out at his feet. Though the fight was taking far longer than she would’ve allowed. Of course, the attackers would also probably all be dead, too. Dead people don’t tend to get back up to attack again.
Rolling her wrists, Selia kept her head down as she moved forward. Each step was silent until she stood directly behind a wanna-be thug who looked like he should have been going door to door trying to sell hair potions to balding men. Behind the thugs was not where she wanted to be. So Selia crossed the street and jogged ahead of them. Once in position, she paused in front of the leader, head bowed.
Their leader was a scraggly haired man who had more scars than lines on his aged face and wore a stained jacket that reeked of cheap cigarettes and beer. “Out of our way,” the man demanded, pulling a blackjack, and thumping it against his hand.
She just shook her bowed head, staring at the thug.
The man lifted his head and his crew of eight goons closed in around her.
“Move or we’ll move you,” the leader said, and the group of men grinned at her like a pack of jackals, thinking they’d found an easy target. Each person held a weapon of some sort.
She shrugged and shifted to the side, giving the appearance she was going to let them by. The man grinned and began laughing at her. Selia smiled beneath the scarf and promptly spun around, slicing through the two men nearest her before dropping and rolling behind them, even before their bodies fell to the ground.
That got their attention, and the idiots howled their rage, spat some rather rude phrases, and rushed her. Her trained mind counted more than eight, so apparently, she’d become the bigger threat.
Her blades sung in the night air, unleashing blood and body parts. The leader had allowed three males to get ahead of him. Selia cleaved through the one on the left, using her momentum to cut through the one on the right in a sweeping arc that finished at the man’s throat. The arterial spray from the exit hit the third man just before Selia rammed one sword into his abdomen, to the hilt. She took a moment to sever that one’s carotid artery before shoving him to the ground.
The leader stood next, surrounded by the four other men who had planned to gang up on her. None of them looked thrilled with the idea, now. She let out a war whoop, knowing she was smiling fiercely, and they couldn’t see it.
A pity, she thought vaguely.
Moving swiftly, she crossed the swords in front of her and viciously pulled them apart, eviscerating the leader. Her right leg came up, foot connecting with the jaw of the still-healthy man closest to it. The jaw gave way and he stumbled back. Selia took the opening to swing past him, slipping the blade in her right hand between the ribs of the thug directly behind Mr. Broken Jaw even as she severed the spine of the thug to her left. Pulling both blades free, she put the screaming broken-jawed man out of his misery with a downward slash that split his skull and sank halfway through his head. A hard yank freed the blade as she looked to see who was left.
As the last man, the youth who’d spotted the Sandman, ran away, Selia merely stood still, swords pointed outward, hands slightly away from her sides with her feet planted shoulder-width apart. With her head was bowed slightly, and though no one could see it, she was grinning. For a moment, the fleeing survivor turned while running and appeared as if he was going to point a weapon at her, but he shifted back to straight out running a second later.
She straightened as the night grew silent around her and she studied the bodies that now circled her. Blood stained the ground and she nudged one body slightly with a booted foot. It gurgled and she gave a dismissive shrug.
Turning, Selia gave the Sandman a low bow, bending only at the waist. It wasn’t an easy feat to do, but she had been trained and her muscles weren’t strained at all. This had been more of a workout than a true fight.
“We need to get you back to the cabin,” the Sandman finally said, hitting the long, metallic cylinder against the brick wall near him. It fell in on itself and she recognized it as a collapsible baton.
“Why? The night is still young, and I need to clean the swords,” she replied, wrinkling her nose at the blood that was sliding off the blades.
“I’ll take care of the blades for you this time,” he said. “Don’t even try to argue.”
Selia sighed. “Fine. You don’t do anything without a reason. Let’s go before I change my mind.”
The Sandman chuckled as she wiped most of the blood off on a corpse before sliding her swords back into their sheaths.
“I’m sure I could change your mind,” he replied in that tone that had her melting. From the smile pulling at his mask, he knew it, too.
“I have no doubt,” she replied, falling into step beside him. “Not going to scold me for killing so many?”
He tilted his head in a curious fashion as he replied, “It isn’t my place to scold you.”
Chapter Fifteen
T he return was quiet, and no one had been waiting for them when they had arrived. The Sandman had walked her into the bungalow, checked to make sure she was safe, and then bid her a good night. Five minutes after a quick shower, she was snuggled in bed, asleep.
Sometime later, the ringing of a phone woke her. Groggily, she reached over, grumbled about the time – a little past three o’clock in the morning- and unlocked the screen before managing a sleepy, “Hello?”
“Where are you?” Al’s voice broke through her sleep-addled stupor.
Rubbing her eyes, she replied, “In a bed that isn’t mine.”
“What?” Al drew the word o
ut and his voice held an unspoken threat.
Opening her eyes, Selia rolled over onto her back, and stared up at the ceiling of the bungalow, grumpy at being awoken at such an absurd time.
“I’m in the bed at the bungalow you sent me to,” she explained. “Obviously, it isn’t my bed, which happens to have a nice soft feather mattress, equally soft feather pillows and a nice, warm, snuggly comforter. This bed has none of those.” She stretched languidly and stifled a yawn. Her voice grew concerned as she asked, “Why are you calling so early, anyway? Soren’s okay, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, yeah, Soren’s fine. It’s you I’m worrying about. Seems someone decided to join leagues with the Sandman, and it resembled you,” Al replied. He didn’t give her a chance to object before continuing, “I’m sending some boys to check up on you. They’ll be at the bungalow soon.”
“Guess I’d better get dressed,” she said through a yawn. Another exclamation and she grinned, glad she was able to annoy him in a way where he really couldn’t retaliate. “Really, Uncle, do you think I’m going to meet them at the door in just my skin?”
“I didn’t need to know that,” he nearly groaned, eliciting a laugh from her.
“You’re the one questioning me,” she retorted. “Stay on the line while I try to find something other than one of those sheer lacy things your people left for me.”
Not waiting for a reply, she sat the phone down and opened a drawer and began digging through the clothes. Finding a long, silky red night gown with long sleeves, she pulled it over her head. It hit just above her ankles and felt smooth and warm against her skin. She picked up the phone again as she heard a knock on the door. Grabbing the gun that had been kindly left in the nightstand, she padded towards the front door.
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