by Kait Nolan
She rolled up, pressed her lips to his. “That’s good enough for me. We can figure out the rest later.”
When she would’ve kissed him again, Ian tucked her back to his side. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not? I’m cloaked now. Doesn’t that mean I’m as safe as I can be?”
“No one is safe around me. Because I’m riven, I am a target. We escaped the last squad the Council sent, but there will be more. As long as they’re after me, I pose a threat to everyone in this compound.”
“Then we’ll go. I don’t want to bring hell down on people who were kind enough to help us either.”
“I’m still a threat to you.”
Her expression turned mutinous. “You are not leaving me behind, Ian. You’re in this whole mess in the first place because of me. If we go, we go together. We run, we hide, we do whatever we have to.”
Ian shook his head, gave a half laugh. “Your father overestimated my influence with you. He thought I could convince you to stay while I go.”
“Screw that. We’re stronger together.”
“Yeah, we are. But I don’t know the answer to this, Marley. We can run. But someday, somewhere they’ll catch up. He’s your family. Family you didn’t even know you had.”
“If staying with you means walking away from him to keep him safe, then so be it. Does a part of me want to know him? To know where I come from? Yeah. Sure. But for better or worse, Ian, you’ve been there for me. He wasn’t.”
It was that simple for her. So he would take the gift and let it be simple for them both unless or until she changed her mind. “Okay.”
“Now back to the problem. Is there nothing that would call the Shadow Walkers off or make them give up?”
“Once this kind of execution order is given, that’s it. Until I’m dead, they’ll keep coming.”
He could all but see the wheels turning in her head. Streamers of silver shot off toward the ceiling. “Then we have to do something they won’t expect.”
“And what, pray tell, is that?”
“We have to die.”
Chapter 15
The knock on the door had Ian rolling out of bed into a fighting stance. He registered the dark, the empty bed, and slid automatically to shadow before he realized the shower was running and a faint light shone from the bathroom door. The brisk tapping came again. He phased back into the room and reached for pants. A knife fit comfortably in his palm as he cracked open the door and peered out.
Corin stood in the corridor, travel mugs in both hands. He lifted them slightly. “I come bearing caffeine. Boss’s orders. I’m to escort you both to Harm. A little tour, then food.” Without waiting for an invitation, he shouldered his way into the room and bumped on the overhead light. One brow arched as he caught sight of the knife. “Clearly you need a cup of this before you face any more of the living.” Corin shoved one of the mugs into Ian’s free hand before settling comfortably into a chair.
A little stupefied, Ian stared at him, thinking it was a fortunate thing Marley was not still naked in bed, else the shaman would’ve seen exactly what Ian could do with that knife.
“Are you always so cheerful of a morning?”
“It’s after one, buddy boy.”
Fifteen hours. They’d logged fifteen hours of actual sleep.
The bathroom door opened, and Ian leapt to block the view. But Marley was already dressed, hair slicked back like a seal. She smiled and rose on her toes to brush her lips over Ian’s. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He doubly cursed Corin’s presence as he stepped back. “We’ve been summoned.”
Marley turned to the shaman, arching a brow at the shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “See something amusing?”
Corin made no effort to sober his expression as he rose, offering the other travel mug. “Oh, hell yeah. I’m going to enjoy watching Harm choke on all those dad instincts he didn’t get to exercise through your teen years.”
Marley sent him a bland stare.
Unrepentant, Corin gestured to the door. “If Ian will finish dressing, we can let the entertainment begin.”
As he led them through the labyrinthine corridors, Corin explained that this portion of the compound had originally been a mine during the Gold Rush days. The tunnels had obviously been reinforced and modernized to some extent. Electrical conduits ran the length and fluorescent bulbs lit the way, though Ian noted sconces with unlit torches were in place for backup. He automatically mapped their progress, though without having a proper starting point, it was difficult to keep in his head.
“Not that I’m not impressed with what you’ve managed to do down here,” said Marley, “but doesn’t it get kind of…repressive, living underground?”
“Oh we don’t live down here. This is mostly secondary quarters. We don’t tend to use them unless we’re under some kind of threat. Most everybody lives up top, in town.”
“In town?” asked Ian.
Corin pressed a code into a security panel and a metal door slid back to reveal some kind of root cellar. The air smelled of dry wood and dirt. The door shut behind them and Ian saw it was camouflaged on this side. Spellcraft made it blend into the dirt wall.
“Rabbit hole,” Corin said. “C’mon. I’ll show you the rest of the compound.”
He led them up rough wooden stairs and into a room lined with bookshelves. A couple of chairs were grouped at the front of the room beside the window. The only other furniture was a wooden desk, currently unoccupied, and a chest with small wooden drawers.
“You actually have a library?” asked Marley.
“Sure. Whenever anybody goes Outside, we have a policy of picking up a book or three and bringing them back. It’s an eclectic collection, heavy on the mystery and romance. Diego’s been campaigning for an expansion into sci-fi. And I’ve been working on the suspense.” Corin opened the door and gestured them out into the sun.
They stepped outside and got their first glimpse of the compound. A long, dirt street stretched before them, flanked on either side by wooden storefronts straight out of an old West movie set. Mountains rose behind the buildings, their wooded slopes curving like hands to cup the town. Ian could just make out a handful of roofs peeking out from the trees. It was charming and impossible and wholly unexpected given the underground bunker they’d emerged from.
“There should be outdoor speakers mounted playing The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly on loop,” said Marley. “Where are we?”
“This is Clementine. It’s a ghost town, or was before we got ahold of it. One of the places time forgot, you could say—except by the buffest of historians. And most of them think it’s pure legend. See, the miners who dug the start of those tunnels we use? They blasted their way into a drakyn’s lair. He was what you might call put out about it and decimated a large chunk of the population.”
“A drakyn?” asked Marley.
“They’re an ancient race of dragon shifters,” Ian explained.
Her eyes went wide, and wonder curled off her in pale lemon plumes. “Dragons?”
Corin jerked a thumb at her. “They’re so cute when they’re new. Anyway, we’re more than fifty miles from the nearest legitimate road. Rough trails and a dried up riverbed are the only other means in or out for those without teleportation or shadow walking abilities, and the cloaking spell takes care of any intrepid hikers who happen to stray too close, which has only happened twice since we set up shop. It’s a good place. A little rough, but it means a place to stay, to settle, for those who would find it too hard to elude the Council in civilization or too hard to hide from human eyes. We are a haven.”
A haven. This was so much more than the refugee camp Ian had expected. All around them were signs of a relatively simple life, well-lived. The kind of uncomplicated existence he hadn’t seen since before he was Made. God, that was appealing. To stop running and settle in this anachronistic and beautiful little spot, away from the rest of the world. He’d never have given it a thought before Ma
rley, but now…
She curled her hand around his, squeezed.
The wooden boardwalk echoed under their feet as they began to walk. Signs were painted, declaring Saloon. Hotel. Mercantile. There was even a stable at the far end of the street with horses standing in the corral, tails swishing in boredom as they munched their hay. Seeing them, Marley clapped her hands in delight, looking younger than Ian had ever seen her. They passed a building Ian recognized as a church. The doors were thrown wide, and from inside, hammers pounded, a saw wailed. His nose twitched at the scent of evergreens and freshly cut wood.
“What’s the power source here?” he asked.
“There are solar panels and wind generators that tie in to our tiny power grid. We do a lot of stuff the old-fashioned way, but power tools make repairs and building considerably easier and faster, and we’ve got security features rivaling Area 51.”
Ian noted some of them as they walked. Subtle cameras placed to keep an eye on all the public spaces. Cleverly camouflaged satellites to scan for any external power signatures. There would be jammers to mask their own electronic signals. And he could feel the subtle hum of magic that made a perimeter around the town. Similar to the magic he used to secure his own safe house but on a much larger, much stronger scale.
“How exactly is all this tech being paid for?” he asked.
“Oh, well, remember that drakyn I said ran off all the miners?” The shaman grinned. “Turns out there’s still gold in them there hills, and it fetches a pretty price on the open market.”
The dozen or so people they passed all smiled and waved in welcome. Ian figured that was largely for Marley, but still, it was a strange sensation.
“How many people are here?” he asked.
“Year round, a couple hundred. We have a surge from time to time. Some go, but a lot choose to stay.”
“And do what?” Marley asked. “I mean…it’s so far from everything. What do you all do here?”
“Same kinds of things people did before the world got all digital and over-connected. We live. Work. Play.”
“And apparently stage the occasional rescue?” she put in, shooting a meaningful glance at Ian. “I would presume that’s what the Underground is about. Like an Underground Railroad for Mirus society?”
“Something along those lines. The Underground movement isn’t quite as cohesive as that. There are many cells around the world. Big, small, and everything in-between. Each one is run differently, with different aims. Some are…more extreme in their politics than others. We don’t get involved in that sort of thing if we can help it. Most of us went through some kind of hell to get here, so we’re pacifists unless provoked.”
Ian caught sight of Marley’s father standing with Tara outside the hotel. “And Harm is what, exactly, in all of this?”
“For all intents and purposes, he’s our Alpha. We operate a lot like a pack.” Corin lifted his arm in a wave to catch Harm’s attention. “He calls the shots, keeps us safe. Has been for twenty years.”
A man who takes his duty seriously, thought Ian as Harm headed toward them. One who’d almost single-handedly provided the information to take down a global crime ring and successfully kept a group of this scale hidden from the Council, without, it seemed, unnecessary bloodshed. Harm was apparently as full of unexpected surprises as his daughter.
“You slept well, I trust?” Harm asked.
“Yes, thanks.” At his side, Marley shifted toward him, a faint haze of unease forming around her. Ian squeezed her hand in support.
“You’ll be wanting something to eat, I imagine. Milan’s got the makings for a full breakfast waiting at the saloon. Or lunch, if you prefer.” He gestured expansively back up the street, waited for them to fall into step.
Though Harm spoke with easy hospitality, Ian didn’t miss the watchful gaze. He wondered how quickly the amiability would disappear when the Felis found out that Marley intended to go with him.
The saloon was exactly what it sounded like. Full-on old West bar, with twenty-odd tables and a small stage flanked with bordello red curtains. The only thing it lacked was the swinging doors at the entrance. Someone had made an effort to spruce the place up from what it had likely been during its inception. Potted plants lined the front by the windows, and the plank walls had been whitewashed, brightening the otherwise dim space. The long bar dividing the public space from the kitchens was a deep, gleaming walnut. Ian could just imagine a rowdy patron being tossed and sliding right along that glossy stretch.
As they took their seats, a tall woman with long, tawny eyes and a cap of dark hair emerged from the kitchen. She smiled at them, with a yellow sunburst of pleasure.
“Welcome! I’m Milan. What can I get you? Breakfast? Lunch? Do you have any food allergies? Anything I should know about? Oh, I’m so pleased to meet you, Marley. Harm’s talked so much about you.”
Marley blinked at the unexpected enthusiasm. “Thank you. And no, no food allergies. Were you, by chance, the one who made the coffee Corin brought us?”
“I am. Was it all right? Not too strong, was it? We tend to prefer it able to stand up and carry the mug itself.”
“You are a goddess,” said Marley.
“Wait ’til you taste her cooking,” said Corin.
Milan’s cheeks pinked. “Oh, well I’m glad you liked it. There’s more, if you want.”
“Yes please. And anything you feel like fixing to eat is fine with me. I think the last time we had a proper meal was…well I’m not sure. What day is it?”
Concern popped off Milan in peach streamers. Mouth firming, she declared, “Well you won’t be hungry when you leave. Back in a jiff.”
Harm watched her glide into the kitchen, obvious affection on his face.
“So, what do you think of Clementine?” he asked.
“It’s…unexpected,” said Marley. “Like a vacation from the real world.”
“Doesn’t have to be a vacation. It’s meant to be a home.”
“I can see that,” she said. “I expect it’s a good one.”
“The rest of the Underground would do well to emulate you,” said Ian. “This…has not been my experience with them.”
“I imagine the Council sent you out after the worst of the worst. I’m not insensible of the actions of some of the others who act under the guise of the greater good.”
Ian acknowledged the point, inclining his head. “I would not bring their wrath to your doorstep.”
“You’ll be needing supplies,” said Harm.
“Yes, we plan to leave at first light tomorrow,” said Marley.
The sudden tension in the other man was palpable as he shifted attention to his daughter. “We? You’re not staying.”
“I can’t,” she said quietly.
Harm’s eyes moved to Ian, accusatory.
He didn’t flinch. “Yesterday you asked how she was hurt. You didn’t ask how she survived. We are bound. Her life force to mine.”
“I see.” His throat worked as he bit back whatever harsh words or orders that sprang to his lips.
Corin wasn’t laughing now.
“This isn’t a matter of my choosing him over you,” said Marley gently. “What you have here, what you’ve done here, is…amazing.” She flicked a glance at Ian. Even without being able to read her emotions, he understood what she asked and nodded. “And I speak for us both when I say we’d like to stay. But there’s still the matter of the contract out on Ian’s head. He can’t stay, so I have to go.”
Anger and grief warred around Harm as he struggled with the news. Ian expected some kind of outburst, but instead, he said, “I understand. Where will you go?”
They’d talked of it late into the night as she’d laid out her plan. It was absolutely crazy and the last thing the Council would expect. Marley looked at him, uncertain whether to speak.
“Back to DC,” said Ian.
“You what?” Danger laced Harm’s tone and his eyes shifted to feline.
“We
have a plan. A rather brilliant and insane one that’s our best shot at making the Council believe we’re dead. As someone who’s successfully pulled that off for the last twenty-odd years, I’d appreciate your input.”
They’d surprised him, and Ian had the sense Harm was a man who was rarely surprised.
“I’m listening.”
They took him through it, answering questions, clarifying points. When they were finished, Harm shook his head. “It won’t work with only two. There are too many variables you can’t account for, too many things that can go wrong. You can’t maintain your part and watch out for her at the same time.”
“But you can,” said Ian. They hadn’t discussed this last night. Ian could sense Marley’s surprise and anxiety at the idea, but he kept his eyes on Harm.
The other man considered in silence, his gaze boring into Ian, as if that alone would tell him what he needed to know.
Marley reached out a hand toward her father. “You help us pull this off, we’re free to come back here. If you’ll have us.”
Harm eyed them both, then curled his fingers around his daughter’s, the forging of a link. “I’m in.”
With an insouciant grin, Corin added, “So am I. Putting one over on the Council is my favorite hobby.”
There was a story at the root of that, one Ian hoped to have the chance to suss out. He’d banked on Harm throwing in to help Marley, but he hadn’t counted on anyone else stepping up. Every one of them gave Marley a better chance. An unfamiliar surge of gratitude tightened his throat. Swallowing it down, he mustered a grim smile. “Good. Let’s talk details.”
~*~
Later, much later, after a lengthy confab session where details were discussed and tasks were assigned, everyone started to drift away, and Marley was left to face that gaping, awkward space between her and her father. It was still hard to call him that, even in her head. He was on board with his support. Marley felt like she owed him for that. But she had things she needed to say, questions she needed to ask if she was to trust her life and Ian’s to him and the rest of his people who’d volunteered for the plan.
No way could she sit down for this conversation. She was too twitchy with nervous energy. “Walk with me?” she asked.
