Keeping his arm steady, Tenthil twisted to look toward the door. The room was quiet enough for him to hear the gentle scrape of her fingers over the wood; there were still no sounds from beyond the door. He’d been aware of the risks well before he and Abella had come here, but their close call a few moments earlier had reminded him what was at stake—her life was in immediate danger every second they spent in this house.
A blazing need to whisk her away from this danger raged within him, existing on a primal, instinctual level, but he held it back. Despite the risks, this was a necessary step on their journey to true freedom.
There was a soft click from the headboard.
“Got you,” Abella said.
Tenthil turned back toward her to see one of the panels sticking a few centimeters out from the headboard. At her gentle touch, the panel slid straight up, its smooth movement suggesting hydraulic arms of some sort.
His pride and admiration for her swelled to new heights. She’d lived in this house as a prisoner, as a piece of property, for years. She’d been beaten and spoken down to; she’d been forced to perform at the whim of a cruel and arrogant spawn of a skeks. Yet throughout her time here—and despite her suffering—she’d held on to hope. Abella had not allowed Cullion to break her spirit. She’d remained observant. She’d discovered and retained her former master’s secrets, and Tenthil had no doubt she would have harnessed her attentiveness and tenacity for future escape attempts had he not rescued her.
She had held on to herself after she was taken from her home. What had Tenthil held on to apart from a defiant streak? He’d become what the Master had wanted him to be, had been shaped into an instrument of death.
Abella would forever be more than he deserved; he was fortunate beyond words to have a mate so beautiful, talented, and strong.
He angled the light into the compartment exposed by the shifted panel.
Abella reached into the opening and plucked up one of the many credit chips piled inside. “These are what we need, right?”
Though Tenthil understood the importance of money, the function of it, he had never been motivated by it; the Master and Corelthi had always handled the earnings and expenditures of the Order of the Void, granting acolytes allowances only to purchase goods and materials necessary to complete contracts, and his people—as far as he could recall from his younger years—hadn’t used currency of any sort. But seeing so many credit chips, knowing some of the business Cullion had been involved in, moved something within Tenthil.
There was likely enough here for him to provide a life of luxury and comfort to Abella for the remainder of their years. A life of wealth and leisure. A life in which she’d never want for anything. Something about that notion was appealing
And something about it was revolting; the thought of using Cullion’s ill-gotten gains to pamper Abella seemed somehow perverted, creating a sinking feeling in Tenthil’s gut.
“Yes,” he said. “Take whatever you can carry.”
Together, they emptied the compartment, stuffing credit chips into belt pouches and pockets, arranging the chips as best they could to avoid any unwanted rattling or clanking. When they were done, Abella carefully shifted the panel down and pushed it back into place. It clicked closed.
Tenthil returned the pillows to their original positions and pressed the switch on the hardlight projector; the light dissipated. He removed the device and returned it to its place on his belt before taking Abella’s hand in his. He led her toward the door, keeping ample distance between their legs and the furniture to ensure she didn’t trip.
“Just have to retrace our steps, right?” she asked.
He nodded and released her hand to place his arm over her shoulders and draw her against him. Ideally, their exit would be just that simple, but in his experience, things rarely went as planned. He pressed his ear to the door and listened for several seconds. The silence on the other side persisted.
Tenthil opened the door, and he and Abella crept into the hallway, keeping close to the wall as they returned to the servant’s corridor. He neither heard nor saw signs of any guards during their descent to the first level. When they reached the door leading back into the darkly decorated main hall, Tenthil opened it a crack.
Several voices echoed from down the hall, made indistinct by distance and distortion. Tenthil crouched low and peered through the gap. The large front doors stood at the farthest end of the hall, visible despite the random sculptures and decorations in Tenthil’s line of sight. One of the doors was open, allowing the muted, orangey light from outside to spill in, and four armored Tegris guards stood in front of it in a loose semi-circle. Their body language and voices suggested a casual conversation. None of them were turned fully toward Tenthil.
He dropped his gaze to the floor; the polished, gold-veined stone reflected the light from outside for a long distance, but the strongest of the reflections ended a couple meters away from the door into the servant’s corridor.
Time was limited; once the jammer failed and the stolen hovercar’s tracking systems were reenabled, the Eternal Guard would come looking. Leaving the vehicle behind was an option, but it was a sloppy one. An abandoned, stolen vehicle would rouse suspicions in a sector like this, especially if Tenthil and Abella’s trespassing was somehow discovered.
Could they afford to wait the guards out, or was the conversation distracting enough to allow a quick, unnoticed escape?
His nostrils flared with a heavy exhalation.
We need to get out of here. Need to get to safety. Need to get her out of danger.
He leaned back and eased the door closed only enough to eliminate the gap. “Going to cross together. Need to stay low, move quick and quiet.”
Tenthil turned his face toward Abella; she remained tucked against his side, under his arm, and the near-total darkness of the servant’s corridor reduced her features to an indistinct patch of shadow just a bit paler than the rest.
She nodded.
They stood up together. For a moment, Tenthil kept his arm still save to tighten his grip on the door’s handle.
Supposed to be careful, not stupid. Protect her from danger, not put her in even more than she’s already in.
But we need to leave…
He thrust aside his conflicting thoughts; they would only be a hindrance in this situation. He’d been taught careful planning and preparation during his time in the Order, and he understood the value of methodical, thought-out approaches, at least in theory; in practice, he’d always been better served by acting. By trusting his instincts.
And his instincts said to go.
Opening the door only wide enough to allow them through, he entered the hall with Abella at his side. They hunched forward and crept along the wall toward the cage-filled room. Tenthil could only hope the statues and sculptures would obscure them enough to prevent the guards from noticing.
Their boots were quiet, but not silent. He gritted his teeth against the sound of every footfall.
His back was burning by the time they reached the door to the cage room, his senses on high alert with the knowledge that four heavily armed and armored guards had a clear line of sight on him and his mate.
He reached out and opened the door. The sound of its latch releasing echoed down the hallway.
“What was that?” one of the guards said.
“Hey! Stop!” another shouted.
Boots clattered over the floor, quickly approaching.
Tenthil shoved Abella through the door ahead of him. He slammed it shut once he was inside the cage room and stepped aside, drawing his blaster. “Go hide.”
Abella grabbed his arm with one hand. “Come on. We need to move.”
“I’ll stop them.”
She bolstered her hold with her other hand, tugging him toward the wall with the secret door. “They didn’t have surveillance on the entrance below,” she said hurriedly. “We just need to have the door closed before they get in here.”
Though her
words had been rushed, adding a thicker accent to her universal speech, he understood completely. If the Tegris guards had known about the access tunnel entrance, there would’ve been either a drone or a guard positioned there as security.
He nodded, and they sprinted across the room together. The shouts and footsteps in the hall increased in volume.
Abella pressed a spot near the base of the wall with her boot, and the hidden door swung open. She dashed through the doorway, keeping one hand on his arm. Tenthil twisted to look behind him as he followed her into the next room. Still holding his blaster, he grasped the hidden door’s interior handle with two fingers and tugged the door shut.
The cage room’s entry door burst open in the same instant the hidden door closed.
Abella’s fingers dug into Tenthil’s arm as they ran to the elevator. He wasted no time before pressing the down arrow on the control panel once they were inside. The double doors whooshed closed, and the elevator made its quiet descent.
She was running again as soon as the elevator opened enough to allow her through; Tenthil had to turn his shoulders sideways to avoid slamming into the moving doors. They were on the catwalk in the access tunnel seconds later. Abella hurried to the ladder and reached for one of the rungs.
Tenthil caught her arm. “There should be other hatches. We will use one closer to the vehicle.”
He tried to ignore the thunderous pounding of his heart, the tightness in his chest born of fear for her safety, the red tinge of at the edges of his consciousness that demanded he go back and kill the men who’d chased them.
All those things faded away when Abella turned her face toward his.
Her cheeks were flushed, her pink lips parted with quick breaths, but when she smiled, she looked more beautiful than ever before—an excited light gleamed in her eyes. She leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. Before Tenthil could respond, they were running along the catwalk, hand-in-hand.
Fifteen
We did it!
Abella could barely contain her elation as she and Tenthil made their way through the side streets and alleyways that led back to Alkorin’s place. She’d thought she had moved on from her time at Cullion’s, that she’d left it behind and could no longer be affected by it, but all the pain and trauma had flooded back to her the moment she saw the place. Stepping into the discipline chamber had been one of the most frightening things she’d ever done, somehow made more terrifying because she knew it was irrational, she knew the people who’d hurt her were gone.
But she’d pushed through. She’d overcome her anxiety, overcome her fear. She and Tenthil had accomplished their goal, and now they were going to obtain the means to leave the planet.
They’d made it.
The azhera and the pair of troll-like cren guarding the forger’s alleyway entrance let Tenthil and Abella pass without issue. She walked down the alley alongside him in excited silence, stepped through the door, and passed the lone cren inside. Each step up toward Alkorin’s chamber felt like another step toward freedom, true freedom.
At the foot of the final flight of stairs, Abella caught Tenthil’s hand and pulled him to a stop. He turned to look at her, furrowing his brow. His spindle pupils expanded and contracted.
“No matter what he says, remember that I am yours,” Abella said. “Don’t let him get a rise out of you.”
His frown—which he’d had in place since they neared the alleyway with the roasted-worm sign out front—deepened. “No promises.”
Smiling, Abella reached up to brush a strand of his hair back, tucking it behind his pointed ear. Her fingers lingered, tracing the tip of his upper earlobe. “I know you have some pretty…strong instincts, but just know that I’m not going anywhere. I’m with you, Tenthil, and nothing is going to change that.”
He lifted a hand to her face, settling his palm over her cheek and trailing the pads of his fingers over her cheekbone. The feel of his gloves made her long for the gentle scrape of his callouses.
“I know,” he said.
Abella took his hand and brought it to her lips. “Remember, we have some…unfinished business. After.” She kissed the pad of his finger through his glove before playfully nipping it.
Tenthil dipped his face closer to hers, inhaled, and released a low growl. “We do. Let’s be quick about this.”
Abella pecked a quick kiss on his lips and drew away. She looked up at the at the elaborate door at the top of the landing. The two vorgals standing guard on either side both stared down at them, one of whom wore a smirk. To Abella, their species was reminiscent of orcs from the fantasy movies popular at the beginning of the last century—though more appealing in appearance.
Tenthil stepped past her and led the way up the stairs. He seemed to purposefully keep his hands away from his weapons, but his posture was stiff, and his fingers were curled into tight fists.
“Are you sure it’s the forger you’re looking for?” one of the vorgal asked. “Or do you just need a room?”
“I’d pay credits to watch,” the smirking one replied, sweeping his gaze over Abella.
Abella eased forward, slipping her arm around Tenthil as he tensed, and smiled. “We’ll be getting a room after we’ve spoken to Alkorin, and there isn’t enough money on this or any other world for you to have even the tiniest peek.”
Tenthil’s tension didn’t diminish. He held his gaze on the guards, and in a low, dangerous voice, said, “Plenty of time to kill both of you beforehand.”
The smirk dropped from the vorgal’s face, and he glared at Tenthil as he swung his blaster rifle into his hands. “That a threat?”
“A fact. Eyes off my mate and step aside.”
Tendons popped out on the vorgal’s throat as he bared his teeth and tusks. His hands tightened on his weapon. “Let’s see how—”
“I don’t think Alkorin would take too kindly to his staff mistreating paying clients,” Abella said.
“Enough, Torkin,” the other vorgal said. He lifted the inside of his wrist to his mouth. “Open it up.”
The etched door behind him lifted off the floor and receded into the high wall. Torkin grunted, cast another glare at Tenthil, and returned to his place beside the doorway.
The other vorgal stepped back and jerked his chin toward the next room. “Go.”
Slipping an arm around Abella to hold her closer, Tenthil walked with her through the open door.
Alkorin’s chamber was just as she remembered, though her appreciation of it was increased having just left Cullion’s. The moody lighting and coherent, minimalist design of this place was an expression of wealth that seemed directly opposed to the gaudy display of Cullion’s manor. The forger, if nothing else, had decent taste and at least some understanding of subtlety.
The blast door closed behind Abella and Tenthil, and they stepped farther into the room.
“Welcome back,” Alk said, calling Abella’s attention to one of the long couches.
The forger was reclining against an armrest, one leg bent, with his arm settled atop his knee. His robe—she knew that wasn’t quite the right term, but it was as close a garment as humans had—was open to reveal the sculpted muscles of his torso and the glowing yellow marks on his chest and neck. He smiled, his intense, shining eyes focused solely on Abella.
“You don’t look very busy,” she said.
“When I received word you were on your way in, I decided to make myself presentable.”
She swept her hand to indicate his state of dress—or lack thereof. “This is presentable? Doesn’t look like you’re waiting to conduct business to me. Looks more like you’re waiting to be serviced.”
Tenthil growled but said nothing.
Alk’s smile broadened into a grin. “Simply waiting to serve.”
“Great. In that case…” Abella opened one of the pouches of her belt, scooped out a handful of credit chips, and held them toward Alkorin. “We’re ready for those ID Chips.”
The forger’s three eye
s rounded for a moment before he swung his legs down, settling his feet on the floor, and stood up. He walked toward them; Tenthil kept himself planted between Alk and Abella until she finally shrugged out of his hold and stepped forward.
“Abella,” Tenthil rasped.
“It’s okay, Tenthil,” she said.
“You’re a brave little thing,” Alk said, stopping about a meter away. His tail swayed lazily behind him.
“Not so much. I think I just know you won’t hurt us. You’re one of the good ones.”
“Am I?” Alk’s eyes narrowed, the central one a little more than the other two. “I’m the head of a criminal enterprise, employing armed guards who would kill at a flick of my wrist. Is that the sort of individual humans usually find worthy of trust?”
Abella glanced back at Tenthil. He’d killed more people than she could even begin to imagine, but he wasn’t bad. Misguided, desensitized to death, but never cruel.
She looked back to the forger, shrugged, and quoted something she once heard back on Earth. “Not all bad guys are…bad guys.”
Alkorin tilted his head to the side, a few strands of his long, dark hair falling to cover one of his eyes. “Are all terrans like you, or are you unique among your kind?”
“The chips,” Tenthil said.
Alkorin sighed, shook his head, and extended a hand. The credit chips clinked on his metal palm as Abella dropped them onto it.
“This should be more than enough for both of the ID chips.” Abella lowered her arm. “We’d just really like to get out of here as soon as possible.”
Alk’s brows fell, and his smile faded. He plucked up one of the credit chips and slid the pad of his thumb over its surface. A tiny hologram projected from the top of the chip, rising off it only a centimeter or so. Though she couldn’t read any of the many written languages common throughout the city, she’d seen the characters in the hologram often enough at Cullion’s to know they were numbers.
“This single chip more than pays for what you require,” Alk said, releasing the button. The hologram disappeared. “We had an agreement. Why give me more, after those negotiations?”
Silent Lucidity Page 25
