allies and enemies 02 - rogues

by Amy J. Murphy

  Northway’s eyebrow arched. Her tone seemed unconvinced. “Uh. Huh.”

  The woman folded her arms across the chest of the blue shipsuit. Its cut and shape were similar to Erelah’s simple gray one, but Northway’s held colorful indicia on the shoulders and sleeves. It made her think of her brother’s command tunic, yet the woman did not move or act with the efficiency of someone with even modest training as a soldier.

  She stared at a colorful design on the woman’s bicep. It teased at her memory.

  “This?” Northway noticed her stare. She tugged the rectangle of fabric from her sleeve. It came away with a purring sound, but the fabric was not torn. She held it out to her.

  Erelah hesitated.

  “It’s okay,” Northway prodded. “It’s just a patch. Part of the uniform.”

  She took it. Her fingers traced the lines of the design. Red stripe. White stripe. A blue field with angry white jutting shapes.

  “It’s a symbol, from my home country on Earth. A flag.” Northway studied her.

  Moves cautious, the doctor claimed a small glass bottle from a nearby shelf. She stepped around the cot to sit beside her. Without pausing to seek permission, she gripped her wrist.

  Erelah clamped down hard on the Sight. It was awake, but sluggish, burdened by the layer of drugs. Her breath caught.

  “Easy.” Northway coaxed her hand open, ignorant of the battle that raged in Erelah’s skull. The healer hissed in sympathy as she studied the red gouges on Erelah’s palms. She dabbed some of the bottle’s contents onto a soft cloth and pressed it to the wound.

  Erelah jolted at the sting of the astringent. She pulled away. “You shouldn’t touch me.”

  “Oh?” Northway sat back. “Why not?”

  Erelah opened her mouth to reply, reconsidered and pressed her lips closed.

  “Is it your deep dark secret?” Rachel spread her hands, fingers wiggling. Her tone seemed chiding. “Like the part where you’re Human like me?”

  The air snagged in Erelah’s throat. How…

  Her gaze darted over the rows of machines, the glinting piles of equipment. Of course.

  Northway regarded her with a half-smirk. “Tah-dah.”

  What did that mean? Erelah stiffened, ready to stand. Uncertain of her next move.

  “I thought I’d never see another Human.” The healer’s voice was thick with emotion. “You are too young to be from the Namaste or the Sterling. And the way you are clothed. You talk and act like one of them, like a Eugenes. How? Why?”

  This was important to Northway.

  After so long hiding her true nature, it was strange for Erelah to encounter someone that welcomed the news. Was it possible the Fates may have shown me favor by placing another Human in my Path?

  It was a serious risk.

  “Help me.” Erelah swallowed. “And I’ll tell you…all of it. Everything.”

  “Help you do what?” Northway scoffed.

  “Leave here.”

  She rose. “There’s no out of here. Don’t you think I tried?”

  “You lied to the guard. You sent him away.”

  “I did.” The energy around her was clamping down, withdrawing. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done this. Get your hopes up like this.”

  Erelah was tempted to use the Sight and simply command her. Something told her it would be so easy to sight-jack her. Northway was a Human; in them…us…it was an inherent vulnerability.

  I could slip right behind those eyes and wear her like a glove.

  That would be wrong. It’s the kind of thing Tristic would do, had done.

  “I can get us both out of here.”

  “I’m sorry, kiddo.”

  Erelah pushed out once again. Time was short. If not to use the Sight to command her, then to glimpse something within the healer to make her listen, want to help.

  “Your father gave you that necklace the day you completed your studies as a healer. You found it in a little blue box with a white ribbon in the pocket of your jacket,” Erelah blurted.

  Northway’s jaw sagged as her fingers reflexively sought the tiny silver amulet strung on a chain about her neck. The symbol meant nothing to Erelah and seemed vaguely threatening: two serpents entwined with a spear.

  “I’ve never told anyone that.”

  “Please. Help me. And I’ll help you.”

  Northway studied her. Her lips compressed into a thin line. “This some con?”

  Erelah shook her head vehemently. “No. I swear.”

  Another pause: “Convince me.”

  25

  Neesa knew it from the start. Asher Korbyn was a liar. Even his name was false.

  There was nothing new about that. All men had liars’ hearts and pretended at things they were not.

  Still, he was fascinating.

  He was not like Lucien, moody and paranoid. Asher’s thoughts constantly evolved, reflexive to the changing environment. It made him a survivor.

  The Asher that sulked in the holding cell was different. He now kept the company of demons.

  “Such sulking, Asher. Honestly, pet, it does not become you.”

  He snapped from the tiresome whir of his trapped animal thoughts, but quickly hid any suggestion of surprise. His handsome liar’s smile greeted her through the bars of his cell.

  They regarded each other for a moment, strangers that had once known each other’s skin.

  “I was wondering when I’d see you.” He stepped toward the lattice of the door. Casually, he leaned against the gate, as though he were used to prison bars.

  “No you weren’t,” Neesa snapped, eyes narrowing. The girl had been the object of his worry. Her colors were all over him, spreading like an infection. It was sickening.

  “If you say so.” He avoided her gaze. Regardless of his casual tone, she could sense him recoil, trying to tuck his feelings away. He’d been raised by Eugenes. They likely never encouraged his natural gifts, even if he was just half-Binait, and only a male.

  “The girl lives. For now.” Neesa paced the short length of the door.

  “Good.” He feigned only a vague interest, but she saw the relief flood through him. It brought her a sour jolt of jealousy.

  Why would that scrawny little girl offer anything of interest to him?

  “She’s a bit…inexperienced…for you.” Neesa willed him to meet her gaze.

  “You can’t be jealous.” He offered another handsome grin.

  “You lie and you don’t even know it.” She reached between the bars and brushed the part of his chest where the girls’ hand still shone like a ghostly beacon. Such artifacts were things only Neesa could see. “She’s wedged so deeply there that there’ll be no pulling free. Not without some major damage.”

  “She’s a mark. That’s all.” His voice was strangely thick. He stepped away from her touch.

  Her rage flared. “We had a deal. We had a plan. We would get rid of Lucien and take over. Together.”

  “Things just…happened.” He canted his head in casual arrogance.

  “Things?” She growled. “Let me tell you about things happening. You have no idea the things I had to do. The damage control I had to…perform once you disappeared. It took ages to regain Luc’s trust. And now, you return like this, reminding him of the whole bloody mess! Have you any idea of how this would affect me?”

  “You’re right. It was insensitive of me to get captured without considering how it’d affect you.”

  “That’s right. Make your jokes,” she seethed. “I don’t care. I know what you’re expecting. You think that somehow I’ll help you to slip free. Not anymore.”

  The knuckles of his fists whitened against the bars. “I’ll tell Ix your part in it.”

  “Tell him,” she scoffed. “I’ll kill your little bitch.”

  There was a rush of satisfaction at trapping him like that. Luc had forbidden her to even approach the area of the medical bay, but she could bide her time. Northway could not watch the girl day an
d night.

  “She was your way back into the grace of your Guild masters. Her abilities sweeten the deal. I saw enough when I touched her. That pretty little head wedged full of ideas. Lots of tech and such. Useful things. Valuable things.”

  The muscle worked in his jaw. “Nothing you or any of Luc’s skews could ever make sense of.”

  “Perhaps.” She held out the device. It might have been a puzzle toy: a dull metallic sphere suspended in a wire cage. Ott had taken it from Asher. The poor lad was too terrified of her to say no when she asked. He did not understand what it was, the oaf. “I wonder how important this little trinket is, however. You were certainly keeping it for a reason. And I know you’re not the sentimental type.”

  Asher was too clever to react. But his shoulders twitched; the hesitation was there.

  “Lucien was right,” she said. “You have the gall to name him a monster for selling slaves when you seek to do the same in selling her to your Guild. You want her to believe you’re a big hero.” She leaned against the bars. “That’s something you can never be.”

  He snatched her wrist. The device clattered to the deck. She would not give him the satisfaction of crying out.

  “They’ll kill you,” she said, “but first my husband will want to know all your Guild secrets. And then, perhaps they should turn their attentions to the girl. She’s certainly a spy. And I’m sure they’ll be interested in that little toy.”

  “Leave her out of this.” He pulled. She collided with the bars. He grabbed her neck, squeezing. There was no room for panic, just hatred.

  “Such bravery,” Neesa mocked. “You don’t even know her real name.”

  The skin around his eyes tightened.

  “Let go. I’ll call for the guard.”

  “Do it. I’ll snap your neck.” He was all animal now.

  “And the girl surely dies.”

  He was not what he pretended. Not the cold-blooded killer that kept the company of marauders and thieves. Guildsmen held honor. Had rules. Obligations. Vows he had broken to have her right under Ix’s nose.

  Yet now he kept them?

  His hand fell away. She danced back, barked a taunting laugh. “Such a disappointment, Asher. To think of the regard I held for you.”

  Neesa bent over to retrieve the device from the floor, knowing the image she presented in her seductive sway of gossamer. Then she strolled away at a slow amble, humming tunelessly under her breath, icy fury under her skin.

  26

  “I’m gonna call bullshit.” Rachel folded her arms against her chest.

  The young woman seated across from her frowned, more out of confusion than consternation. Rachel had just cursed in English, not Commonspeak.

  There was something innocent, inexperienced about the girl. It did not help that she looked more like a runaway teenager and not the twenty-something she claimed to be. Wide green eyes under a mop of barely tamed dark hair, in a flightsuit that was two sizes too big.

  Tilley—correction: Erelah—had this sheltered quality like a homeschooled kid, but ravenously intelligent. The book smarts were there but not the street smarts. Consequently, it made her a rotten liar.

  She was holding back information. Considering the circumstances, Rachel did not blame her.

  Rachel glanced at the doorway. Liet had returned and was lounging somewhere in the hallway, still fearful to come near the “disease-laden” prisoner. It was very likely he was asleep.

  She could manufacture an illness to rattle off to the gullible henchman. It would buy more time, but ultimately it would run out.

  “So, you’re like what…royalty or something?” Rachel felt mildly absurd even asking the question.

  “I’m just a Last Daughter.” She used the term like a terminal disease.

  “So this guy you’re with, that make him Prince of the Reaches?”

  “Korbyn?” Erelah’s scowl suggested she knew when she was being mocked. “Hardly.”

  “Quite the catch then,” Rachel muttered, shrugging.

  “And I am not with him,” she said forcefully. “He just found me.”

  “Fine.” Rachel held her palms, surrendering. “Sensitive subject.”

  “But he had a plan.” Erelah regarded the dingy walls of the small room as though written on them were an answer.

  “The guy you’re not with?” Rachel asked, arching an eyebrow.

  She ignored it. “He told me he had a way out.”

  “Ix is apeshit about his revenge against this guy. They say he was a spy or something. What’d he do anyway?”

  The girl bit her lip. “He did not say.”

  “Well, by all means, let’s throw our bets in with 007.”

  This earned another frown.

  “Okay.” Rachel nodded. “I got an idea. Give me a word, a name. Something this guy Korbyn would know.”

  Wide-eyed, but understanding slowly seeping in, Erelah nodded. “Jocosta.”

  She turned to the door and bellowed at the top of her lungs: “Yo, Liet!”

  Erelah panicked, hopping up from the cot. Rachel guided her back into place.

  “Calm down!” It was a rushed whisper, her eyes glued on the doorway. “Just follow my lead.”

  The girl perched on the edge of the cot.

  “Keep quiet. Trust me. And look sick,” Rachel commanded. She straightened as an approaching shadow played along the wall of the corridor beyond. Her face fell into a stern mask.

  Liet appeared, slightly out of breath. Irritation dominated his doughy tattooed face. “Well? What now, Northway? I’m a busy—”

  “Sure,” Rachel shot back. “You fell asleep at your post, didn’t you?”

  His upper lip curled. He jerked his chin at Erelah. “She’s awake, then. Lucien’s waiting to hear what you found.”

  “Now, hold on a second.” Rachel propped her hands on her hips.

  “She seems well enough,” he ventured, peering over her shoulder.

  “She’s still my patient. I haven’t said she’s well enough.” She winked at Erelah. From the raised eyebrow, she could tell the expression meant nothing to her patient. “That is…unless you want to see if Zenti can catch it too?”

  Liet took a large stride back. His voice hovered between suspicion and fear. “Catch?”

  “It’s quite serious.” Her tone was grave. She leaned closer to Liet as though imparting a dread secret. “Nasty stuff.”

  “That so?” His gaze danced nervously between Rachel and Erelah. He took another conspicuous step back to the doorway. “You don’t seem scared none.”

  “I’m Human. I’m immune.” Rachel moved to the workbench and began to pull out trays of instruments. “I need that Ash-guy. What’s his face? The one that came in with this one. Gotta test him too. See if he caught it.”

  “Korbyn?!” Liet laughed nervously. He stepped closer, cutting a wide arc away from the bed where Erelah sat. “You’re insane! Lucien’ll have my head too. Besides, what’d it matter if he’s sick? He’ll be dead soon enough.”

  “Then you’d better go get him now.” Rachel shooed Liet out of her way to busy herself with more important-looking rummaging. “I need to know how many others he’s come in contact with. We’re dealing with a serious contagion here.”

  “Contact?” Liet squeaked. “Now—”

  “Say…weren’t you the one that brought her in?” She spun on him. “Were you on their vessel? Maybe I should start by taking samples from you. It shouldn’t take too much tissue.”

  “I barely touched her.” He quickly folded his arms, performing a shuffling side step.

  Erelah coughed. Feigned or not, it was enough to make Liet dance back, sending a metal cart into the wall with a hollow clatter.

  He stared. “Why here? Can’t you go see him in the cell?”

  “You see that uniform my patient is wearing? That’s Fleet. They’d been experimenting with bioweapons.” Rachel gave an exaggerated sigh of frustration. “She’s been exposed to it. They both have. I need t
he full use of my medical lab. And we need to act fast. Jocosta syndrome is fatal.”

  Liet ran a nervous hand over his shaven head. A thin layer of perspiration glazed his upper lip.

  “Oh. Alright. But you do this quick,” he said finally.

  “I swear, Liet, me dicking around is the least of your worries.” Rachel clapped a hand on his shoulder. He startled.

  With eager strides, he made his way to the doorway. He hovered there for a moment, swallowing.

  “Jocosta syndrome,” he muttered before he disappeared down the corridor.

  Rachel drew a conspirator’s grin at Erelah. “You know, that was actually kinda fun.”

  27

  Fighting a stab of pain in his ribs, Asher rolled onto his side. He thought about climbing back onto the bench, but staying on the floor for now seemed the right play. The throbbing ache of his skull confirmed it.

  How long? Maybe five, six hours?

  There was a distinct possibility he had passed out at some point. No telling how much time he’d lost then. The lockup wasn’t exactly equipped with a chrono. The lights stayed on in their glaring ferocity no matter what the ship cycle.

  Most of this new damage was from Ott. The men he’d double-crossed on the Noble weren’t done seeking payback, regardless if Ix was still thinking on how to dispose of him.

  They hadn’t even started to question him yet.

  I’m screwed.

  Irrevocably.

  It was likely Ix would try to sell Asher off to the highest bidder after that. A Guild-sworn captive was worth a lot to the right bidder. Any information he possessed was old and virtually worthless by now, but it mattered little. Ix would hold out, make the most of the status of having such a high-profile prisoner.

  Even if I got free, where would I go?

  Asher was burned with Ironvale Guild. They would have disavowed him the moment he stepped on the Nyxa’s Mercy with its crew, or, more correctly, the moment he got involved with Neesa. No one knew about that part. As a Guild operative, he was expected to deny the influence of others. There could be no leverage against you, nothing to make you vulnerable or compromise you. Now, on this side of it, he understood the full depth of that.