by Loren Walker
* * *
The air on the sixth floor of the abandoned factory was stifling. It grew warmer as the sea of people collectively gasped.
A girl grabbed at the arm of the man next to her. His conversation interrupted, Lander scowled and looked to where his friend pointed. Then his face went even paler.
“Phair - Ms. Lore,” Lander stammered. His friends backed away, a circle of empty space around him. Lander’s eyes darted to the exit. Cohen stood in the doorframe. Backlit, he was a wall of stone.
“Recovered, Lander?” Phaira cooed. Twenty feet away, she leaned against the opposite wall, pleased at how her white street clothes made her stand out in the black sea of fabric.
Lander wet his lips. Fear flooded through the room. The Hitodama members hid their faces behind their hands, whispering and staring.
“Can I - ” Lander started, and then stopped. “What are you doing here?”
“You owe me,” Phaira said. She lifted one hand and counted on each finger. “Didn’t pay for the recovery job. Tried to kill my family. Put a contract out on me. And then not even a thank-you for a genuine rescue. Not one shred of gratitude!”
“Not very nice,” Cohen’s voice boomed across the room.
“Thank you?” Lander squeaked.
“Little late for that,” Phaira said as she pushed off the wall.
The room shrank back. Lander’s eyes bulged and his hand fumbled under his cloak.
Really? Phaira thought wearily.
As Lander unsheathed a Compact firearm, Phaira was already next to him, disarming and sweeping his legs out from under him. The crowd cried out as he crashed to the floor. Then Phaira neatly cartwheeled over Lander’s body and wrapped her legs around his arm, wrenching it into an armbar. As he howled in pain, Phaira kept her eye on Lander’s elbow joint, noting the hyperextension. Then she tilted her head back, addressing the row of witnesses: “I’d stay out of this.”
The upside-down eyes stared back at her. No one moved.
“As for you, Lander,” she continued in a softer tone. “Try that again and I’ll break your elbow and sever all the nerves in your hand.”
Lander nodded, sweat dripping down his temple.
“You work for me now,” Phaira told him. “You help Anandi keep our channels secure and knock out any tracers. You also remove any identifying information on us, on any of us, that gets out into the network. Do that and I’ll leave you alone. Deal?”
Lander nodded again, looking like he was about to faint. “Deal.”
Phaira released him. As she swung her legs around and rolled to her feet, the crowd of Hitodama stepped back. Phaira raised a hand to wave. “Go back to your party. Sorry to interrupt.”
From his position in the doorway, she saw Cohen smirking. Phaira winked at him as she strode out of the room. As they headed for the exit, the floor remained silent for several seconds. Then the same words floated down the hallway, like a plume of smoke.
Phaira Lore. Phaira Lore.
* * *
When they returned to the Arazura, Renzo was waiting for them by the door, a stack of papers in hand. “We need to talk,” he told his sister.
As Phaira and Renzo headed for the common area, Cohen smoothed his palm over his hair and worked up his nerve. As an afterthought, he tossed his heavy boots and jacket into his quarters. Then he padded down the hall to the little alcove.
At his knocking, the door creaked open. Her hair fell from their braided topknots. Her robe was loose, with one bronze shoulder exposed. Cohen tried very hard not to look at it.
Sydel smiled up at him. “Co.”
“Hey,” Cohen said. “How are you?”
Sydel lifted the bare shoulder. But her brown eyes were warm, even crinkling at the edges. “You’re back. Would you like to come in? Tell me what happened?”
When Cohen grinned at her, Sydel shyly dropped her gaze to examine her bare toes.
Then her skin prickled. Someone was watching them.
Phaira, at the other end of the corridor. Her jagged blue hair framed her face. Her arms were tight over her chest, the biceps prominent.
Sydel tilted her head, inquiring.
But Phaira’s expression didn’t change. Her gray-green eyes were fixed on Sydel, unblinking.
“Syd?” Cohen’s voice made her jump. “What is this thing?” Having slipped inside her room, he was now peering into the deprivation chamber.
“I - ” Sydel started, and then turned back.
Phaira was gone.
That was a warning, she realized. She’s watching me.
Sydel looked at her hands. They were clean and healed. But something pulsed in the center of her palms, like a heartbeat. Something rippled through the bones of every finger. And her core, though no longer aflame, smoldered like the coals of a fire. Waiting.
about the author
LorenWalker lives and works in Rhode Island.
EKO is her debut novel. The sequel to EKO is NADI.
Email her at [email protected],
or visit the official site:
www.lorenwalker.net
thank you
to my family and friends, my everlasting cheerleaders.
to my beta readers Ty Black and Jill Corley.
to Wil Scott, Mel Colvin, Deranged Doctor Designs, and the Book Designer for making me (and EKO) look good.
and to you, for giving this book a chance.
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