Rebel of Scars and Ruin (The Evolved Book 1)

by Veronica Sommers

  He avoids my eyes. "I was thinking."

  "Thinking?"

  A tap at the door.

  "That's my new friend, Safi," I say. "I'm going to let her in."

  He doesn't object as I cross the room and open the door to the tall black-haired girl. Her eyes dart back and forth between us. "I thought you said you tied him up," she says.

  "Apparently not well enough."

  "Are we still on for this?" she asks.

  I turn to Rak. "Are we?"

  He starts biting the scar on his lip, and then he stops. "Do it," he says, seating himself on the bed. "But you—" he waves the gun toward Safi—"I don't know you. Don't try any tricks."

  She smirks and gives him a mock salute. "Yes, sir."

  The device she hands me is ancient tech—a slab of circuits encased in thin metal shielding, from the days before the nano-tech breakthroughs.

  "Will this even work?" I ask. "I have to access my father's skull-port. This technology is too different to be compatible."

  "I've modified it," says Safi. "See the piece here? That's scavenged skull-port tech. I wrote some extra code to sort of gel everything together. It's back-street stuff, held together with glue and a prayer, but it works."

  "Where do I enter the wave-code?"

  She shows me how to activate the device and put in the code. Then she plops into the chair Rak escaped from and crosses her long legs, waiting.

  As soon as I send the signal, a repetitive soft beep comes from the device.

  "When the orange light turns blue, you're connected," says Safi.

  The wait feels interminable, but at last the orange light switches color, shining blue as unclouded sky. Blue, the color of hope.

  "Who is this?" My father's voice crackles and buzzes through the device's speaker, but it's unmistakably him. Rak's eyes widen at the Magnate's voice, and Safi leans forward in her chair, listening. "I don't have an identification reading for you." My father pauses, then says, "Zilara?"

  "Dad!" My throat spasms with emotion. "It's me."

  "Where are you?"

  "In the Emsali desert, this little town called Ankerja. I'm safe for now, but I don't know how much longer I can stay here. The Vilor are trying to get me, as well as the Fray."

  "What?"

  "The Fray base where I was held got overrun by Vilor. So my—my guard brought me here, to Ankerja."

  "When we didn't hear back from your kidnappers again, we thought you were dead." He sounds surprised. Not joyful, not tearful. Just surprised.

  "Dad, I can explain everything later. Can you send someone to get me? There aren't any Peace-Keepers out here."

  "Getting you out will be difficult," says my father. "This issue with you has caused a lot of international tension. And there are other events transpiring—it's complicated."

  My heart falls and keeps falling, through the thin carpet, through the concrete, through the layers of sand and rock. Nausea throbs in my stomach. "What's wrong with you, Dad?" I struggle to keep my voice steady. "You haven't asked how I am, and you don't seem very happy to hear from me."

  "Of course I'm happy," he replies. "And you already told me you're safe, so it's redundant to ask."

  My face flames because Rak and Safi are hearing this, witnessing my father's callous nature. How do I turn his voice to private mode instead of speaker mode? I examine the device, but I can't figure out how to modify the volume or set it in private mode, and Safi doesn't offer to help me—probably because she wants to hear this, to ensure that her payment will be coming.

  "I need you to be strong and stay low a bit longer," says my father. "I can't risk sending troops into that area of Emsalis with tension so high."

  "What about a strike team? They could come in with a hoverplane and land in the desert—in and out, no problem."

  "Do you know where you are, Zilara? You're at the edge of a contested area. There are no-fly zones in every direction, set up by the countries who have the misfortune to be neighbors with Emsalis."

  "So ask them nicely to let a hoverplane through."

  "It's not that simple, Zilara, not with the current political situation. The Fray and the Vilor have stations along the desert border as well, and General Pregall tells me some of them have anti-aircraft weaponry. Invading that zone is too big a risk right now. One stray spark, and it all goes up in flames."

  I clench my teeth and speak through them. "Why did you send me here if the rebels are so well-armed? This whole country is anything but peaceful, Dad."

  "It was a miscalculation on my part. I thought our Peace-Keepers had sufficient control of the situation, and I thought your security team could handle any threats. Trust me, everyone who failed us in this scenario is being thoroughly punished."

  "And you?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "Have you been thoroughly punished for your failure? Because I have." I'm shaking, tears filling my eyes. I've never had the nerve to speak to him like this, and even here, an ocean away, he scares me. "You need to get me out of here. Now. I want to come home."

  "If you're safe, I see no reason why you can't stay there for a few days until things quiet down." The ice in his voice chills my soul. "Honestly, Zilara, you're so rarely asked to do anything for your country, for your family. I would think you'd be glad of the opportunity to help. Stay where you are, and I'll send a team for you in three or four days at the latest."

  I can't speak.

  "Zilara. Are you there?"

  Rak moves forward, leaning over the speaker. "She's here, you piece of dung. No thanks to you."

  My jaw drops.

  A pause. "Who is this?"

  "I'm the one who kept your daughter out of Vilor hands."

  I'm shaking my head at Rak, my eyes begging him to shut up.

  "Then you have my thanks. If you could protect her a little longer, I'll see that you're well rewarded for your time and trouble."

  "She can take care of herself," says Rak, his eyes locked with mine.

  "What's your name?" asks my father.

  Leaping forward, I cover Rak's mouth with my fingers. "That's not important, Dad. Just send someone for me, please, as soon as you can. And send a few finance cards for the people who are helping me." I name amounts much higher than Safi and I agreed on. Hopefully it will be enough to buy her loyalty, because we'll probably need her help again before this is all over.

  Rak pries my hand from his mouth easily, but he doesn't speak again.

  "I'll see that it's taken care of," says my father. "I have to go. As I said, the political climate is less than stable at the moment. Be well."

  The connection ends. He's gone.

  I lunge at Rak, punching him in the chest. "Why did you speak to him? Now you have his attention."

  "And that's a bad thing?"

  "Very bad. His staff probably did a voice capture for that entire call, and he'll use it to identify you! And calling him a piece of dung? What were you thinking?"

  Safi chuckles. "That was the best part. That, and the thing about the finance cards. I assume we're each getting one?"

  "I don't want one," says Rak.

  "You're getting one anyway."

  "I didn't do this for money, Zilara."

  "I know. But from what I've seen in Emsalis, everyone could use some extra money. I'm sure your mother and sister would appreciate it."

  A flicker of indecision crosses his face. "They would."

  "Then it's settled. When the Magnate finally decides to act like a father, you'll get your rewards."

  "Three days, or four," says Rak thoughtfully. "We don't have enough on my finance card to stay here for that long. And if anyone does figure out that we crossed the desert and comes looking for us, this will be the first place they check."

  "You think the Vilor or the Fray will follow us?"

  "Anyone who survived that Vilor attack will have finished searching the villages near the Fray base by now. They'll either think we're dead, or they'll start considering where else
we could have gone. And if my team hasn't already contacted the Fray sympathizers in Ankerja, they will soon."

  My skin prickles. Fray sympathizers could rush in through the doors of the inn any minute and drag us out. I'd be their prisoner again, and Rak would be in serious trouble.

  A knock at the door. I startle so hard that I drop the communication device, and Safi swears as it clunks against the concrete under the scant carpeting. She scrambles to collect it as Rak edges to the door, gun in hand. "Who is it?"

  "A delivery."

  The three of us look at each other. If this were a nicer hotel, it would have a visi-panel in the door so we could see the person outside. But no such technology has made its way to this town on the back-end of nowhere. There's not even a glass peephole.

  Rak opens the door a crack. I sidestep and peer around him to see who it is.

  "Well met and a delightful morning to you!" It's the blond man from down the hall, the one who whistled at me. The one whose room I borrowed as a hiding spot. He catches sight of me before I can duck away. "There you are, mystery girl! May I come in for a moment? I bring gifts!"

  I smell the gifts before I see them—a rich, greasy, meaty smell, and a fruity scent layered under it. Food.

  Rak steps back and opens the door wider. "Come in." He throws me a look that clearly means, "Why is this man bringing you breakfast?"

  Our neighbor shoulders his way inside, carrying a bulky cloth bag. He grins at me, and I smile back without meaning to. His eyes are bright blue in a narrow, pale face, his hair tumbling in blond waves over his fore head and around his clear-cut cheekbones.

  "Sorry for the intrusion," he says. "But I thought I should check on you. It wasn't a dream, was it? You did spend time in my room last night?"

  "I did."

  "May I ask why?"

  "How about after you hand out the food?" Safi says, rising from the chair. "I have to get back to the desk, so throw me a packet of whatever you've got there, and come see me if you need anything else. I might have a place you can use when you're done here." She gives me a significant look. She must know somewhere Rak and I can hide until my father's extraction team arrives.

  The newcomer hands Safi a packet of food, and with a mock salute, she leaves us.

  "Gorgeous girl," says the man. "Are you three a triad or something? Lovers, business partners, friends?"

  "You ask a lot of questions for someone who wasn't invited to our room," says Rak, frowning.

  "Sorry, just trying to figure out what my odds are of enchanting one or more of you." He grins at me again, blue eyes sparkling.

  "You don't really need to know anything about us," I say. "Thank you for letting me into your room last night, and for the food, but it's better for you if you stay away from us."

  "Is that right?" He tosses Rak a silver-wrapped food packet and saunters over to me. "I only bought three meals, so you and I will have to share. I didn't know you'd have an extra person in here."

  He opens the third packet, and the aroma of fried meat and boiled eggs, buttered potatoes and fresh melon wafts up to my nose. My stomach gurgles audibly.

  Seating myself on the bed, I pat the spot beside me. "Sit," I tell the man. He obeys, smiling, and Rak takes the chair, his brows lowered and his eyes clouded with displeasure at what's happening.

  "All you need to know is that someone bad was after us, and I needed a place to hide," I say, taking a bite of the food.

  "The man who was murdered last night? Was he after you?"

  I don't bother to deny it. "How did you know about that?"

  "It's a tiny town. People talk, and the authorities leave newslines on local feeds. I like to keep up with what's happening wherever I am. It's a matter of survival." He says it casually, but I suspect there's more to this man than his easy charm and his innocent-looking blue eyes.

  "Don't tell him anything," says Rak around a mouthful of eggs and potatoes.

  The visitor clicks his tongue. "Such suspicion. Is that any way to treat the man who bought you breakfast? I think the food is worth at least your true names."

  I shake my head. "I can't give you my name."

  "If I can guess it, will you tell me why you're here?" The smile is gone, and he's looking right at me, or into me.

  He already knows. I'm clearly too recognizable, especially with the roses and vines tattooed on my temple and along my cheekbone. And when I was taken, my picture would have appeared all over the news vids.

  "If you guess correctly, I'll give you the basics of why we're here, but no details. And you don't get to know his name." I point to Rak.

  "I don't need his name, Zilara Remay."

  Rak swears, but I nod, resigned. "You recognized me."

  "I wasn't sure when I saw you in the hall—you moved too fast, probably because you were naked."

  Rak chokes on his food.

  "I had a towel on," I say to Rak. "Calm down."

  "But then last night I was almost sure," the blue-eyed man continues. "I thought I might have dreamed up the whole encounter with you, though—I was so exhausted I barely knew what was happening. If you had been an assassin, I'd have been dead. Anyway, I looked up your picture this morning and I knew it was you. And I figured you could use some help."

  "So you don't want to turn me in to the Fray or the Vilor for a nice fat fee?"

  "Not at all. I figure helping you out might lead to some sort of reward from your family—not the money kind, though. I'm looking for safe passage out of Emsalis and official resident status in Carrasen."

  "She already has enough help," says Rak.

  "What, you? And that stunning creature from the front desk?" The visitor laughs, then turns his full attention back to me. "I have connections. I know paths and places and people. I can help you."

  At first I was flattered that he was speaking only to me, not to Rak. But now I'm wondering if it's strategic on his part. Maybe he thinks I'm the more gullible one, the one who will be easily fooled by his smooth words and his blue eyes and that warm smile. "If you have these connections, why can't you get out of Emsalis on your own?"

  "It's complicated."

  If I had a gemstone for every time a man has said that to me, with the same dismissive tone. Instantly the visitor loses several notches in my esteem.

  "But I can get you back to your father's Peace-Keepers," he adds. "Just let me go along with you when you leave Ankerja."

  Something about his offer and his request doesn't seem right. How can I know if he's telling the truth?

  Suddenly I stand up, setting aside the food. "Come with me."

  "Why?"

  "Just come."

  11

  With Rak following, I lead the man out of the room and down the hall to the lobby, where Safi lounges with her feet on the desk, eating fried meat from the food packet and licking her fingers after every bite.

  "She's part of the team," I say to the blond man.

  "Am not," Safi protests.

  "Ignore her. Now repeat everything you told me. About your offer, and what you want in return."

  He raises an eyebrow, but he does as I ask, repeating what he told me almost word for word. When he's done, Safi purses her lips. "He's lying."

  "I knew it!"

  "Almost everything he said was a lie. Except the part about wanting to leave Emsalis—that part was true. What is it there, handsome? Someone after you?"

  "None of your business, gorgeous," he says; but though he smiles, there's a shade of something else in his expression—something I recognize. A loss of hope. Desperation.

  "You really want to join with us. Why?" I ask.

  "She's got an ability, doesn't she?" He jerks his head toward Safi. "Some kind of lie detection?"

  "Yes."

  "All right, all right." He tousles his blond waves with one hand. "I'm a purveyor of unique items. I get a special request, and I deliver to high-paying buyers."

  "You're a thief and a smuggler," says Rak.

  "It's all i
n the presentation, Maraj boy," snaps the blond man. "I'm not your average pick-pocketing street trash. I deal in items of the finest quality, and I command the highest prices. Until recently when I accepted a commission that I shouldn't have taken. I stole something from Akej Orunei."

  "Akej Orunei?" Rak sounds shocked. "The Vilor warlord? Are you insane?"

  "Possibly. I thought I got away clean, but a week ago a bounty hunter came after me. I got away, but I learned that Orunei set a price on my head, high enough to tempt the best hunters in the business. Why do you think someone like me is out here, in this dung-pit of a town?"

  "What's that?" drawls Safi. "What are you calling my beautiful town?"

  "A. Dung. Pit," he says, emphasizing each word.

  "I'm very offended." She pops a potato in her mouth and chews, watching him with half-lidded, pale-green eyes.

  "That still doesn't explain why you want to join us," I say.

  "He wants protection," says Rak, pinning the man with a look. "Safety in numbers. He can't handle this problem on his own, and since we took care of the bounty hunter last night, he wants to throw in with us. Isn't that right?"

  "Yes. The man you killed was probably here for me—but he saw you first, Zilara, and got greedy. If he found me, others won't be far behind."

  "But if you can't offer us any real help, why should we let you come along?" I ask. "Won't your presence make all of us a bigger target?"

  "All of us? No, no," says Safi. "There's no 'all of us,' not with me in it. I'm just the tech provider. I'm not involved with your rebel-hunter-magnate business. In fact, you should all leave, unless you plan to stay another night. It's about time for our cleaning woman to go through the rooms."

  I'm about to ask if their cleaning bots are broken, but then I remember where I am. Back end of nowhere. They probably don't have that level of automation out here.

  "She's right, we should leave," says Rak. "Bounty hunters, the Vilor, the Fray—they'll check the inn first, and then the bar, looking for new arrivals to town. We need another place to hide out until we decide what to do—or until Zilara's father sends help."