Inheritors of Chaos

by Barbara Ann Wright

  And if Naos attacked from a distance, too far out for them to get to her quickly, well, they were screwed. Cordelia had to laugh. Accepting that everyone might be screwed let her see each day as less of a slog at least. It was strangely comforting to know some situations were hopeless.

  After she’d spent too much time pacing and arguing about marching on the mine, she threw herself into training new recruits with Lea. The mothers of the Storm Lord’s children stayed aboard Pool’s tree along with Horace and Simon. The ruins of the Yafanai Temple were pulled down, and reconstruction began. Simon went out to bolster the crops every day, and the paladin trail masters had organized several hunts with the drushka, so the people had enough to eat. Cordelia hadn’t seen Shiv since her reappearance, but Pool said she was alive, though a drushkan couple had died trying to find a solution to the Lyshus problem. Besides offering a shoulder to cry on, Cordelia didn’t see how she could help. She did her best to comfort Nettle, but like the humans, the drushka had to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

  Even with all the normality, Cordelia felt…poised. The air had been turning cooler before surprising everyone with a heat wave, and Simon reminded them that after years of the Storm Lord’s tinkering, the weather would be unpredictable for a while.

  The air over Gale turned stifling, making tempers flare. Cordelia increased patrols, but even she got a mad on every time she went outside and felt as if she was trying to breathe inside a cooking pot. Not a gust of wind disturbed Gale, and she felt certain the crops would have died without Simon. After the third stifling day, Cordelia was more than tired of feeling hot and sweaty and angry. She began to hope Naos would come over the horizon just so all the tempers in Gale would have a target.

  After a week of sniping and fighting, a cool wind blew over the city as if someone had flipped a switch. Cordelia had been outside, breaking up some stupid argument between two shopkeepers, when the wind rolled over her. She breathed deep, and everyone on the street sighed as if they’d scripted the scene. Grumbles still abounded, but now they sounded more like apologies, so Cordelia walked away without giving a warning. She turned into the wind, closing her eyes and lifting her chin. In the old days, she would have thanked the Storm Lord, but now she knew any good luck was only despite him.

  She headed for the keep at a stroll, not wanting to miss a second of this breeze. She felt this same elation when she slipped free of her body, but she wouldn’t have left it now for all the sweet rolls in Gale.

  “Captain Ross!”

  With a sigh, Cordelia opened her eyes to see Private Jacobs careening toward her, face delighted. Well, at least the excitement in her tone wasn’t bad news. Maybe more luck than a shift in temperature had arrived.

  “What is it?”

  “The mayor’s home! The scouts just spotted him!”

  Cordelia grinned, her spirits lifting further. She followed Jacobs to the northern gate and spotted the approaching party: Liam, Private Swanson, and Lieutenant Porter.

  And Patricia Dué.

  Cordelia slowed. “Shit. The fuck does she want?” She hadn’t expected a visit from the mine’s usurper. But Liam was smiling. Hopefully, the blocks Horace had put in his mind had kept anyone from fucking with him.

  She was definitely getting Horace to check him out as soon as possible. “Tell Simon the mayor’s back,” she said to one of the drushkan scouts. “And ask him and Horace to come to the keep.”

  “Ahya.”

  When Liam came close, Cordelia threw her arms around him. She resisted the urge to squeeze, not wanting to crush him with her armor even if it was unpowered.

  “Happy to see me?” he asked.

  “Of course, asshole,” she said softly. “You brought company?”

  “To talk about Naos. I convinced her that we should be allies.”

  She eyed him skeptically, but he seemed confident, more than she would have expected, given the circumstances. “And the mine?”

  “All in good time.”

  What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Cordelia supposed that when Naos had flown overhead, discussions at the mine had gotten sidetracked. According to Simon, Patricia had originally shared a body with Naos, after all. She had to be freaked out.

  When Liam gestured Patricia forward, she shifted her feet and seemed to have trouble making eye contact, miles from the confident two-hundred-year-old Cordelia had met before. The way she leaned toward Liam said that she’d come to depend on him, too. Maybe his convincing had been more than verbal.

  Cordelia snorted. “Sly fucking dog,” she whispered as he fell in step with her.

  He blinked and smiled, shaking his head. “What?”

  “I’ll give you shit about it later, don’t worry.” She nodded toward Patricia. “I don’t know how welcome you’ll be in Gale.” She raised a hand before Liam could argue. “I’m all for being allies, but you did steal our mine. I’m not ready to trust you.”

  “If I wanted your town, I’d take it,” Patricia said, narrowing her eyes.

  “It’s all right,” Liam said, holding his hands out to both of them. “Trust is earned; I think we all understand that. Patricia can stay in one of the apartments above the warehouses. I can stay nearby just in case any hypothetical fires need to be put out.” He winced as if only just remembering Gale had been horribly scarred by fire less than a year before.

  Cordelia frowned but nodded. Patricia would have a guard day and night, including drushka and Simon, who was currently walking toward them. Seemed he’d decided that seeing them in the keep wasn’t soon enough.

  Liam grunted. Cordelia glanced over to see his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. She swore under her breath. Liam had been jealous of Simon before, had acted as if Simon was stealing his friends, but Cordelia thought he’d gotten over that shit. Maybe something about Simon sitting here in Gale while Liam had been at the mine brought it all back. But it wasn’t as if any of them had been on a fucking vacation.

  “Mr. Mayor, welcome back,” Simon said, smiling warmly despite Liam’s frosty posture.

  Liam swallowed visibly as if forcing down the words he wanted to say. “Happy to be home.” His smile was a little smug, a little brittle. Cordelia needed to get him drunk as fast as possible.

  But to her surprise, Liam was reluctant to leave Patricia at all. Horace met them soon after Simon showed up and waited while they got some apartments ready.

  “You sure you want to stay here?” she asked, trying to think past the unease wiggling inside her. She tried a grin. “Or do you want somewhere new and fairly spruced up?”

  After a blink, he grinned back. “I am the mayor, after all.”

  She snorted and rolled her eyes. “And just how many of your constituents are going to get an invitation to your new place for a private meeting?”

  His eyebrows rose almost to his hairline, then he smiled as if he really liked that idea. Just a little time away had seemed to have gotten him over Shiv, at least a little.

  “I noticed Porter’s been giving you the eye,” she said.

  He swung his head toward where she nodded, then made a grunt of surprise before he was seized by a coughing fit. She thumped him on the back, wondering if thoughts of Porter had overwhelmed him, or maybe he wasn’t as over Shiv as she’d thought.

  “Never mind,” she said. “There’s no rush.”

  “Hooray for that,” he said, his voice scratchy. He cleared his throat again. “So, tell me what’s been going on.”

  She started with the ship, but he knew about that. She tried to make it clear that she had wanted to rush off and save him but couldn’t. Instead of giving her shit or reassuring her that he’d been okay, he nodded and said, “Understood.”

  Well, maybe he was hurt by her non-rescue, or maybe it was still Simon bothering him, or… She sighed. She didn’t have time for his childish shit before, and she didn’t now. If he wanted to be cold and formal, so be it.

  She told him the rest of the news bluntly: that the plain
s dwellers were riled up again and that they’d recovered Miriam’s child. His head snapped toward her at the last news, and he stared intently as she explained that all the children and mothers were staying in the drushkan tree for now.

  He took a deep breath, and his face went eerily still. “Sure that’s wise? Are these…kidnappers trying to kill the children or protect them?”

  She frowned. “Protect them from who? I think they’re trying to start a Storm Lord cult and make sure the kids don’t grow up under our evil influence.”

  He looked away as if he didn’t know how to process that. “You’re right,” he said softly. “The kids will be safer among the drushka. That way, no one can push or pull at them. When they’re old enough, they can decide what to be.”

  Something he’d never gotten a chance to do with his hard-ass of a mom. She clapped him on the shoulder. “Right.”

  “Just don’t…” He swallowed and cleared his throat. “I don’t think we should vilify their father.”

  She snorted a laugh, wondering where the fuck this was coming from. “The man who killed your mother, my uncle, Jen Brown, and who knows how many others? Don’t vilify him?”

  He ducked his head, and the wind gusted, bringing Cordelia’s skin out in goose bumps and lifting the hair on the back of her neck. “Thought you agreed that they could make up their own minds. That should include what they think about their father.”

  “What the fuck—” she started, then Patricia sauntered over, glancing back and forth between them.

  “Mayor Carmichael,” she said, “one of the workmen had a question for you.”

  Liam stalked off, fists clenched at his sides.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear,” Patricia said softly. “The mayor and I have had many conversations the past few days. His father lives at the mine; did you know?”

  Cordelia’s jaw dropped. “No! Did they meet? What happened?” She forgot who this woman was for an instant before shutting her mouth. She should not be standing around gossiping about her best friend with this…Naos half.

  Patricia shrugged. “He said his father had his reasons for leaving when he was a baby; maybe they were able to work some stuff out. I know it’s got him thinking about fathers.”

  Liam confided in Patricia? Or had she dug those memories out of his skull and called it conversation?

  “Excuse me.” Cordelia stalked away, mentally calling out for Horace and hoping he had his telepathic “ears” open. She saw him standing with Simon, speaking to a group of people, but his head whipped toward her, and he grasped Simon’s arm.

  “What is it?” he asked in her mind. Simon looked at her, too, and her scalp tingled as their powers played over her.

  She strode to them and spoke softly. “I’m fine, but I need to know if that mind-bending, mine-stealing fuck is in Liam’s head.”

  “I scanned him,” Simon said. “I didn’t detect anything physically wrong, but I didn’t do a full scan.”

  “And I gave him a cursory look,” Horace added. “The blocks are still there.”

  “And you’re sure they’re your blocks?”

  He blinked a few times, then shrugged. “I mean, there’s no telepathic signature, but…”

  “So, you can undo them and see if he’s been tampered with? Something’s off.”

  “I guess I could,” Horace said, looking to Simon, who shrugged.

  “I could do a deeper scan,” Simon said. “If she broke through Horace’s blocks, she might have left scars.” He frowned. “But if she did change him, she’s not going to sit back and let us heal him.”

  Cordelia’s face burned with rage. “We’ll have to sneak up on them.”

  “Before Naos arrives?” Simon asked. “I mean, if you don’t think we can trust them to help us fight Naos, I’m all for picking a fight, but didn’t we want Patricia’s help?”

  “Fuck.” Cordelia kicked at the ground. If they were able to disable Patricia but Liam had nothing wrong with him except for some emotional turmoil, they were fucking up a major alliance for nothing.

  But it was Liam. She had to make sure he was okay. “Do what you can without getting her attention. I’ll find a way to distract him. If I can get proof that he’s been fucked with, we’ll spring a trap.”

  Chapter Seven

  Dillon walked down the dusty street and tried to slow his heart rate, tried to tuck his power back where it belonged. At a distance, he’d been able to disperse the humid miasma surrounding Gale, but he couldn’t go summoning storms or throwing lightning bolts in the middle of the goddamned town. Nothing would give the game away faster than that.

  He was getting on so well with Captain Ross, then she had to bring up his old life, his kids. All he’d asked was that the Galeans not tell his children he was a piece of shit. They could talk about him in neutral tones, let his kids have some affection for their old man. They didn’t have to list everyone he’d wiped out on his way to the top.

  Especially Brown. That one still hurt. She’d just shot Lazlo, and he was seeing red, so he struck out, just as he’d had with Paul Ross. Shit happened. Hell, kids were well acquainted with accidents.

  And did anyone ever mention his many admirable qualities? No, it was always a litany of fuckups. He bet no one brought up how Lazlo had engineered the boggins that almost destroyed Gale or how he’d fucked up augmentation and created Natalya, Naos’s old host. Or how he’d held Dillon still while some fucker stabbed him in the back. Dillon would give a lot to know who had actually knifed him, but Patricia claimed not to know him, and the killer had buggered off. Maybe whoever it had been was currently prowling around Gale, and if Patricia smoked him out, Dillon could repay him in kind.

  He took another deep breath and tried to calm his temper. As soon as he turned away from Ross’s view, he walked a tight circle, hands on his hips as he looked at the calm blue sky. He wished he knew how Liam acted when he was angry, then at least he’d have some way to vent. He’d seemed pretty pissed when he’d shot Dillon six times, but he had to have some speed between diplomatic and murderous. Maybe it took him a while to work up to anger. That meant more smiling practice, digging deep and bringing out his natural charm.

  But holy shit, the people in this town were going to try his fucking patience with Ross and her cronies shit-talking his former life on one side, and the people who still worshipped the Storm Lord on his other. And his old followers would be against him in this body. He supposed he should be thankful that someone was trying to avenge his memory.

  But he’d have to kill them if they got in his way.

  This was going to be Liam’s last term as mayor, that was for damn sure. Dillon would ease into this new life, separate himself from Ross and the rest of them, claim they’d just grown apart, then he’d become…

  What? Not a paladin; they were crawling with renegades. A mercenary? A fucking shopkeeper? He snorted. Maybe he’d drift around the world, take Patricia to keep him in one piece, and they’d chart this fucking planet, spread humanity around a bit. He’d watched Calamity from his window on the station many times, and he remembered every inch he’d seen, a side effect of Lazlo’s treatments. They’d taken plenty of scans from the Atlas, and now those were waiting in the mountains. If he could get his hands on them…

  Or the metal. It wouldn’t matter who he’d been if he could take possession of the metal. Storm Lord or not, the whole world would be begging for a fraction of his time and attention.

  Now that was interesting. As he was, he could be overwhelmed by Lazlo and friends, but if he was the king of metal on this godforsaken rock, no one could touch him, especially not with Patricia by his side.

  And Naos? He laughed and glanced around to make sure no one was watching, but the dusty alley stood empty, the bustle of the warehouse district masking every sound. If he could somehow get Queen Nutter on his side, he’d be fucking invincible. She’d enjoyed toying with him from space, but he didn’t know how much of that had been Patricia’s influence. But Naos
was Patricia, at least on some level, and it wasn’t as if Naos was the bad twin and Patricia the good twin. They both had aspects of each other. From what he’d been able to figure out, Patricia had been overwhelmed by the power she’d acquired after the accident, and to cope with that, her personality had split, trapping the part of Patricia she’d always thought of as herself and letting her darker side free, mad as it was.

  When Patricia had escaped her own mind, she’d taken some power with her, but not as much as Naos, who still bore the madness for both of them. But maybe Naos could be fixed, as Lazlo had fixed Horace, as he’d been trying to fix Natalya. If her power could be brought to heel, her mind could heal itself. Hell, that was probably why she’d come down: she wanted her sane half back.

  If Dillon could find out just what Patricia had done for Naos, he might be able to figure out Naos’s endgame.

  He strode into the converted warehouse where a group of people were rapidly setting up living quarters. One of the women in a workmen’s smock caught his eye and winked. He winked back, wondering if she was an old flame of the mayor’s that could be rekindled. A nice thought, a reason to enjoy this body.

  * * *

  Shiv felt more comfortable aboard her mother’s tree than she did on the ground, even after the deaths she had caused. Dimly, she thought of what it was like before she had her own tree, before Lyshus, before she had met a single human. She had longed for new faces, for adventure and the unknown. When she had met Cordelia and Liam, she had wanted to spend every moment with them. Liam’s embrace had been powerful, ahya, but it was more than that. She wanted to wrap herself in human sights and sounds, to breathe in all the life she thought she had been missing.

  Now, those memories were cloudy, nothing compared with the feeling of having a tribe. The contentment radiating from Lyshus was almost enough to drown out the memories of his parents’ horrible deaths and the terrible realization that she could not have a tribe larger than one.