Hero's End (The Black Wing Chronicles Book 2)

by JC Cassels

  He stared at the deadliest hand cannon Mergent Arms had ever produced, then met her level gaze over the barrel. There was no hint of any tender emotion in her amber eyes. The blushing young ingénue he’d first met in that embarkation lounge was long gone. This was the Scourge of the Seventh Sector, the cold-blooded killer he’d painstakingly taught and nurtured.

  Holy Maker…what had he done?

  The realization hit him like a chunk of fuseform. He had only meant to keep her alive, but he’d turned her into the very thing he hated.

  He’d turned her into himself.

  “You and me are over. There was no marriage. Only lies.” A lone tear broke free and slipped down her clenched jaw. “I’ll be damned if I’ll let you hold my future hostage. You can either leave here on your own, or I can send you out in a body bag. Either way, we are through. Tell your Sovran he can’t have the Black Wing.”

  “You’re making a huge mistake, Bo.”

  “The only mistake I made was trusting you. Get the hell out of my life.”

  “You’re angry and you’re hurt, I get that, but when you calm down, you’re going to regret this.”

  “Probably. Probably not.”

  His lips quirked. He went on as if she hadn’t spoken.

  “When you come to your senses, call me. I meant what I said, Bo. Someday you’re going to figure out that I love you, and when you do, I’ll be waiting.”

  “If I ever see you again, I will kill you. Do you understand me?”

  His mouth twisted into a self-deprecating smile. She’d even begun sounding like him.

  He could easily disarm her, but to what end? She hated him. He could feel it oozing out of her. He studied her face for a long moment, memorizing every line, every curve…every tear.

  Everything in him screamed in protest as he took a few steps back and picked up his jacket. Never taking his eyes off her, he crammed his arms into the sleeves and shrugged it over his shoulders. As much as he hated it, the only thing that would soften her attitude towards him was time. She needed time to think and distance from him to see things more clearly. He didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.

  “See you around, Barron,” he said.

  He turned, and without a backward glance, walked out. Once the door slid shut behind him, he hesitated. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a cigarette and his lighter. With one trembling hand, he put the cigarette between his lips and lit it, drawing the smoke desperately into his lungs with one long drag as he tucked the lighter away. Pinching the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, he grimaced, removing it from his mouth and cupping his fingers around it as he lowered it to his side. He blew out the gray cloud, watching it undulate through the air in front of him before finally risking a glance over his shoulder at the closed door. His shoulders sagged as the bleak reality settled in over him.

  She wouldn’t call...ever.

  Bo had already proven that she could walk away from everything and everyone she loved if she felt she had to. She’d done that much when she went into exile two years ago.

  Lowering his head, he closed his burning eyes. His chest felt like he had been struck by the handlebars of a crashing hovercycle. It hurt to breathe. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear someone just turned up the gravity in the corridor.

  If he thought it had a chance in hell of working, he’d turn around and go back in there on his hands and knees begging her to listen. It wouldn’t work. The damage had been too great.

  With a little shrug, he opened his eyes, blinking away the burning moisture. Taking shallow breaths, his spine stiffened and he squared his shoulders in an effort to relieve some of the pressure on his lungs.

  With a sigh, Blade lifted the cigarette again, pausing to study it when it was halfway to his lips. The thought of finishing the damn thing turned his stomach. His lips curled in distaste. Savagely, he shoved the burning end into the palm of his hand, into the thick callus just below his wedding ring. Wincing against the pain, he crushed the cigarette, ignoring the putrid smell of his own burning flesh. When it ceased smoldering, he lifted his hand to inspect the damage. He pursed his lips and blew across his palm, more to clear away the ashes than to soothe any hurt.

  He welcomed the pain. It gave him something else to think about…something else to feel. With only a glance at the remains of the cigarette, he tossed it aside. He drew his jacket tighter around him.

  What the hell was he going to do now?

  He had well and truly burned his bridges behind him.

  His holofeature career was dead by Sovran order. If he went to Cormoran, there would only be too many questions from his brother that he wasn’t prepared to answer. Kah Lahtrec no longer held any promise of sanctuary for him; the villa held too many memories of Bo.

  He glanced back over his shoulder at the still closed door of his apartment. His lips lifted in a sardonic smile. It was hers now. It always had been.

  No job, no wife, no home – he was well and truly screwed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Brutal late-afternoon sunlight battered the boardwalk. The restaurant’s glass walls had been pushed aside to accommodate the tradewinds blowing steadily in across the water. Built on pilings out over the jade green waters of the bay, the square structure with its high, bare-beamed ceiling was as close as he could get to Kah Lahtrec for the moment.

  It was a pale substitute. It was too sleek and streamlined. At least, inside, it was blessedly dark and cooled just enough that the sweat didn’t pour off him.

  Blade had shed his riding jacket hours ago. The blaster slung beneath his arm garnered enough interest to warrant a visit from the local constabulary. A quick flash of his IC credentials sent them on their way.

  Since then he’d been left alone to drink in peace.

  He didn’t feel much like socializing. He didn’t feel much at all.

  He had finally achieved numbness. He couldn’t conjure any feelings one way or another.

  He reached for the bottle of Old Arturian he’d told the Joy Babe-in-training to leave. With concentrated effort, he lifted it from the table and splashed another drink into his glass, not caring that a good portion of it spilled over the edge of the table.

  He’d never been blind drunk before. It seemed as good a goal as any. He needed a goal. He needed a plan. He always had a plan. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he didn’t have a clue what he was going to do next. That scared the hell out of him.

  He set the bottle down and fumbled for his glass. At what point does one become so inebriated that they no longer realize they are inebriated? He frowned into his glass.

  “You look like hell.”

  Great.

  Ian Kendall.

  Blade’s lips twisted in amusement at his own expense. Of course. A one-way ticket back to Trisdos would be the perfect ending to a day like this.

  He didn’t bother to look up. “What’re you doin’ here, Ian?”

  “It’s my business to keep track of you, Devon.” He pulled out the chair opposite and swung it around, straddling it. Bracing his forearms across the back, he studied Blade. A small smile toyed with the corners of his mouth. “Local authorities call in an IC agent sittin’ by himself in a bar, drinking himself into oblivion, I just had to check it out.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Blade peered at him. “Have a drink with me.”

  Kendall glanced at the nearly empty bottle. “You buyin’?”

  Blade waved his hand. “My accounts are frozen.”

  “I’ll expense it then.”

  Kendall waved over the server. She shifted her tray and sidled closer to him than necessary, shooting Blade nervous glances.

  “Bring us another bottle of Old Arturian and another glass.”

  With a nod, she glided off to fill the order.

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  Blade lifted his burned palm and studied it as if seeing it for the first time. “A woman,” he said. A
fter a few seconds he held up two fingers. “Make that two.”

  Kendall rubbed his jaw with the back of his hand. “One of them wouldn’t be Larianne Varo by any chance, would it?”

  Blade nodded.

  “Yeah, I thought I’d tracked her here. What happened?” Kendall’s smile faded and his spine stiffened. “She didn’t kill Barron, did she?”

  Blade closed his eyes. His chin dropped to his chest. She may as well have. Larianne couldn’t have cut him deeper with a knife if she’d tried. As far as revenge went, hers was pretty devastating.

  He crossed his forearms on the table in front of him and rested his head on them.

  “Hey…, Dev? Dev! Don’t pass out on me now, guy.” Kendall’s fingers curled in his hair and he picked up Blade’s head.

  With a growl, Blade swatted at his hand. He shoved himself upright once more.

  “Is Bo alright?”

  Blade peeled his eyes open and peered up at Kendall. His concern seemed genuine.

  Blade ran a hand through his hair. “She threw me out.”

  Kendall’s eyes narrowed. “Why? What happened?”

  Blade fumbled in his pocket for the data reader and slapped it on the table between them.

  Ian swallowed and the color faded from his face.

  “Ah, shit.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, man,” Kendall said. “I didn’t know.”

  Understanding burned through the alcoholic haze. He cleared his throat. His spine stiffened. Bracing on his elbow, he leaned across the table. “You knew about this?”

  Ian closed his eyes and shook his head with a small sigh of regret. “When I took you to Trisdos after your brother was shot, General Rameus ordered me to lift your data reader. He told me to mock up orders for you to cultivate Barron as an asset, but to remove any mention of you being…you know…the Heir. He gave me the office recording from your debrief after the Tennova Job. I didn’t know why he wanted it. He had me hide it in your data reader and sent me back out in the field to your security detail.”

  Blade snorted his derision.

  “Rameus called Varo in to deliver it.” Royce Barron said from behind Blade.

  The look of surprise on Kendall’s face was priceless. He started to reach for his weapon, but Royce poked Blade hard in his back, enough to make him wince in pain.

  “Keep your hands where I can see them, kid,” Royce said. “Don’t want anything to happen to your boy here.”

  Blade looked up at his old friend. “Hi, Royce.”

  Royce lifted his chin in greeting. “Hey, kid,” he said. “I heard what happened. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  “I’ve been right here.”

  “So I see.”

  “How’d you know about Varo?”

  “Been following her.”

  Blade nodded, as if that made perfect sense. “Of course. Have a seat.”

  Unmoving, Kendall watched Royce. “Blade, that is Royce Barron. He’s wanted for murdering The Barron.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” Royce said.

  Blade dismissed the accusation with a wave of his hand. “He didn’t do it.”

  “Witnesses caught him…”

  “Witnesses with more to gain from murdering Bhruic than Royce did,” Blade said, trying not to sway in his seat. He looked up at Royce. “Galen wouldn’t have done it himself. He had to have hired it out.”

  Royce nodded. “He did.”

  “Got an ID?”

  “Varo.”

  “She has been a busy little tussah,” Blade said.

  “Watch your language.”

  Kendall looked from one to the other as if they’d both gone mad. “You wouldn’t happen to have any proof of that, would you?”

  His eyes narrowing dangerously, Royce glared at him. “As a matter of fact, yeah,” he said. “Autopsy on my brother said he was stabbed by someone holding the knife in his right hand.”

  Kendall shrugged. “Yeah? So?”

  “Royce is left-handed,” Blade said.

  With a superior smile, Royce raised his empty left hand from behind Blade’s back and waved at him. He caught the eye of the approaching server and held up two fingers. She nodded and returned to the bar for a second glass. Royce pulled out a chair and dropped into it.

  “Bhruic called me into his office,” Royce said. “When I walked in, he was sitting behind his desk all wild-eyed. He couldn’t move. I thought he’d had a stroke. Next thing I know my spinal column lit up like a plasma storm.”

  “Stun gun?” Blade asked.

  “Neural scrambler. She hit both of us with it. She took a ceremonial knife from the collection on the wall and put it in my right hand.”

  Royce’s expression hardened.

  Shaking his head to clear it, Blade studied his face. Understanding dawned quickly.

  “Oh hell, Royce,” he said. “She didn’t…”

  Royce swallowed hard.

  Blade shoved the nearly empty bottle across the table to him. Royce lifted it to his lips, draining the last of the dregs.

  “What?”

  Blade rested his hand on Royce’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  “What happened?”

  The implications of it all, mixed with the liquor, roiled in Blade’s gut. “She put the knife in his hand and made him stab his brother fifteen times.”

  Kendall muttered an obscenity.

  The server set the fresh bottle and clean glasses on the table in front of them before she scurried hastily away.

  “It’s one kind of hell to watch your brother die,” Blade said. “It’s another to…”

  “Kill him,” Royce said.

  “You didn’t kill him, Royce,” Blade said.

  Royce closed his eyes. “Sure felt like I did. That bastard Galen stood there watching the whole thing, giving her directions.”

  “So when you tracked Larianne here…”

  “Thought she might be after Bo.” Taking a deep breath, Royce squared his shoulders and shrugged off his personal demons. “I followed her to the apartment. I was in the lift tube tapped into the security cams. She just talked to Bo. Gave her that.” He indicated the data reader with a nod. “Then she left.” Royce poured himself a drink. “I hung around long enough to make sure there wasn’t some kind of booby trap in it and I bugged out. That’s when I lost her. I checked in with Edge and he told me you were here. Gave me your new tracking info. I knew you weren’t at the apartment so I followed up your activity at the baths. Lemme tell ya, you’ve got yourself quite a handful with those boys. That little one’s head ain’t right.”

  “Little one? The Delian?”

  “No. Well, him too, but the other one.”

  Blade nodded. “Yeah, he’s off.” He squinted at Royce. “You know Bo threw me out?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “Nothing happens on Altair without Redmaster Blue knowing about it.”

  Royce filled all three glasses. Blade stared at his for a long moment, his stomach rolling in warning.

  “She pulled the Capre on me, Royce.”

  “She didn’t shoot you.” Royce shrugged. “That’s good for something.”

  “I guess.”

  “If she didn’t love you, she’d have shot you.”

  “You think?”

  Royce nodded with avuncular reassurance. “Give her time to cool off. Maybe in a year or two you can get together and discuss it rationally.”

  Blade groaned and ran his hand through his hair. “What I don’t get is why Larianne told her to mention her name.”

  Kendall’s eyes narrowed. “Why? What do you mean?”

  “Well, Bo said that Larianne specifically told Bo to tell me that she’s the one who dropped it off.”

  “That sounds like she was giving you a message,” Royce said.

  “Yeah,” Kendall said. “But what?”

  Royce set his glass on the table. “I’ve got a room not far from here and you’re not
going to do anybody any good until you sober up.” He looked pointedly to Blade. “You look a little green as it is.”

  Blade waved his hand in dismissal. “I’m fine.”

  Royce rose and pulled him to his feet. “Yeah, and I’m a Sovran. Come on…and don’t you go puking on me now.”

  Blade fumbled for his jacket. After three tries, he was able to untangle it from the back of his chair.

  “I’m fine, really.”

  Royce pulled Blade’s arm around his shoulders. “Get over here and get his other side, will you?” He said to Kendall.

  Shaking his head, Ian did as instructed.

  “Man’s pretty messed up for getting dumped by his girlfriend,” he said.

  “She’s not his girlfriend, you idiot,” Royce said. “Bo’s his wife.”

  “Aw, man!”

  “You know what? I think I am gonna puke after all.”

  ***

  There were ways to sober up quickly.

  None of them were pleasant.

  A rapid detox and rehydration cocktail of meds, including emetics, followed up with analgesics left Blade feeling as though he’d been turned inside out, shaken out, hung on a line and then battered back into shape. Cursing the day he ever met Royce Barron, Blade dutifully drank the sickly-sweet concoction purported to replace needed nutrients. Burying his head in his hands, he leaned on the desk near the window and peered out at the Altairian capitol city, watching the last fading purple hues of twilight fade into night.

  It couldn’t come soon enough. The purple sunset reminded him too much of the apartment he’d, until recently, shared with Bo.

  “So if Lord Marin wants to break up the marriage, he’s not interested in the Black Wing,” Royce said.

  “No, he wants the Black Wing,” Blade said. “He doesn’t know we’re married.”

  “Then why did he go to all the effort to make Bo throw you out?”

  “Maybe he didn’t,” Kendall said.

  Blade lifted his head.

  Kendall leaned back on the loveseat and looked from one to the other. He held up his hands to his chest. “My orders came from Rameus,” he said. “I never talked to Lord Marin about lifting your data reader.”