“So how many of you are there?” The guard asked, his gun still leveled at her face.
She didn’t feel inclined to answer, so she stared at him in silence.
“You won’t answer?” The Constie seemed nervous, which made Holly feel a bit more nervous. It was the person couldn’t control their nerves who accidentally pulled a trigger.
“It was only me,” she said, finally. “I acted alone. Well, me and my friend out front.”
This seemed to appease the guard somewhat. His eyes lost some of the wild panic she’d seen in them.
“The cops will be here soon. They’ll take care of you. This,” he gestured with his free hand at her and then himself, “isn’t what I was hired for.”
The cops! They’d be friends of Grafs. They’d arrive, see her, and happily throw her in jail, this time without the problem of corruption. They could keep her there longer as though she were just a common criminal. Was she a common criminal? Did she really have the luxury of believing that she was more? Something noble. A person who helped the weak even if it meant working in ways that were less than noble.
If only there was a chance it would be Meg or Gabe to show up. But that would mean murder, and it would probably be her murder, what with the wild eyes of the guard flicking around the room and checking over his shoulder. His back was to the door and that seemed to bother him.
Holly couldn’t help but search the room for an opportunity to get away from him. She turned her head slightly, the side of her face, facing him. The guard startled her by suddenly reaching for her ear. He yanked the earpiece out. “What is this?” He demanded, holding it up in front of her eyes. “You aren’t working alone. There are more of you. You lying . . .” He threw the ear-piece against the wall and cussed at her.
“Right. The guy out front. That’s how we communicate. Well, communicated.” Holly hoped her calm would soothe him. Instead it seemed to make him more frantic.
“The police will be here soon. I’m sure. I notified them already. “Chasing your friend. Now shut up. Tell me what you were doing here, hmm?”
Holly wondered why the Centau had hired a Constie in the first place. Was it a sign of how little they cared to keep the secrets of the military out in the hands of the undesirables of the world? Could they really worry so little about people with interests that didn’t align with the over-arching interests of the 6-moons that they allowed their military information to just walk out the front doors because no one would ever steal it and take a bunch of ships and then fly off to the edges of the Yol system and proffer the 6-moons to the non-humanoids who wanted in?
Holly tried to not alarm the guard. His manner—the anxious, nervous energy she saw in him, as though he were just waiting for her to do something that made him angry—reminder her of Graf. At any minute he could snap and hit her.
She still had her gun. He hadn’t thought of that. She’d put it away in the room with the safe and hadn’t gotten it back out. So he never searched her. But her earpiece was out, she was on her own. And she needed to get away before the police came. They wouldn’t be kind to her and she knew that.
His nervous eyes suddenly stopped on her as though he realized something. He came toward her. She pushed back in the chair to put herself far away from him. “I just realized. I have you all to myself. A human. Female. No better than a thief.”
She briefly considered telling him she had syphilis. But if he wasn’t thinking along those lines, she didn’t want to put ideas in his head. She could feel the gun against her back where it was hitting into the chair.
He began to undo the buttons on his pants.
Fuck.
“This will be fun,” he said.
Holly went for her gun. He saw and lunged at her where she sat in the chair.
“You’re armed!” He shouted.
Her hand found the grip of the Equalizer and pulled to remove it from her waistband, but the guard dropped his own gun and slammed his full weight into her, crushing and pinning her hand against the chair. She brought her knee up against his backside, but it wasn’t hard enough to knock him off balance or stop him. One of his knees was pressed hard against her thigh—so that leg was immobile. She was fighting with one hand and one leg. The best Holly could do was try again with her knee before his leg could pin that one as well. Her free hand was currently engaged with fending off his attempts with his free hand to unclasp her belt.
She yelled, then started laughing. It was an attempt to distract him. And it worked, for a moment. His eyes widened and he stared at her, then, with the hand that had been supporting him against the top of the desk chair, he hit her across the face.
Her laughter died. Her vision clouded with the red of her anger and fears. She saw in her head, the rictus of Graf’s face as he beat her before she killed him. Her face throbbed, but she didn’t feel it. She was riding on top of the wave of her blood red anger. It rushed in her head like a wind of strength, coursing through her, carrying the fire and energy to her arms and legs. It would free her. Her mind was as clear as the indigo flames of aether as it burned, hot and clean. The adrenaline of a woman in rage was no match for a male full of adrenaline as well. But Holly was like crystal. Her mind came alive, a billion neurons lighting up with the clarity of the sun at noon. She would not act instinctively like an animal.
Strength flooded her. A strategy flew into her mind and she stopped the struggle with her free hand. The surprise of the move startled the guard and his grip relaxed to compensate for Holly’s hand going limp. In that fraction of time, she whipped her hand away and brought it up, a hard blade, into his throat. He gagged and choked, unable to breath. His balance teetered and he began to fall forward. Holly freed her hand from behind her back and pushed off the chair that was leveraged against the desk, and lunged at the guard. Pushing him back and off her. She kicked him in the stomach, which knocked him entirely down. He skidded on the floor and lay there coughing and struggling to breathe like a fish, as she stood over him. She pulled out the Equalizer and aimed it at his face.
“I should kill you. I don’t even think I’d feel bad about it. You were going to rape me. I think that’s a crime punishable by death. Don’t you?” She spoke through gritted teeth, snarling the words. “Imagine it. Imagine yourself being raped by a male, stronger than you. Can you do it? Can you make that leap? Or are you so convinced of your strength that you don’t think that could ever happen to you? I should kill you,” she said again. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to watch him suffer. Her hands trembled. Her heart pounded everywhere in her body.
But no. She realized, she had a better tool—a tool that would he’d never forget. His whole life would be changed, she hoped from that one time he almost raped a human female. He still struggled to suck air into his lungs. His body was weak from the fight. His eyes were wild as he stared up at her, pure animal fear on his face. He was scared. A traitorous feeling of pity snuck through her. She aimed the gun above his head and pulled the trigger. The violet projectile tore the wall apart. The guard cowered and began to cry between the ragged inhalations that wracked his body.
“You’re lucky I don’t believe in punishing people for crimes they only thought of committing.”
The door opened and Odeon entered, his face calm, his Ousaba staff spinning in his hands. He was a storm—the eye, the arms, all of it.
“Holly,” he said, his face softening. “You’re safe.” Then he noticed that she’d been hit. His face hardened again and in a flash he was at the side of the guard, his hand frozen inches shy of striking the guard’s cheek.
“I’m OK. Don’t do it. I could have killed him. I didn’t. Let him live. He’ll never forget what just happened. Maybe he’ll not suck for the rest of his life.”
Odeon snarled in the Constie’s face, then flicked the tip of the guard’s nose with his finger. Holly wanted to laugh—but she still felt an overpowering disgust for the guard.
She went to the side of the room and picked up her earpiece.
“Let’s go. The police will be here soon. They can take care of him.”
Odeon straightened, still watching the guard weeping and wheezing on the ground. “What did you do?”
“Hit him in the throat.”
Odeon reached down and touched the guard’s throat. “He’ll feel better soon. But not too soon. Can’t have him coming after us.”
TWENTY-FOUR
THE Surge Club was closed down for the night, but light from the Bird’s Nest bled out the window and beckoned Holly and Odeon warmly. Holly had been doing her best to forget the encounter with the guard. It still troubled her. On the way back to the club, Odeon asked Holly for more details about what occurred. She could tell that he didn’t believe her that it was just a minor fight. But she didn’t feel like divulging that more than a mere struggle had happened. He put his arm around her at one point. At first she flinched away. Odeon saw and drew his arm back, saying something consoling. Holly met the brilliant gaze of her friend, and then moved into the crook of his arm. The contact with someone she trusted that held no more obligation than just a comforting touch, soothed her.
“Thanks for coming after me,” she said. “There was a moment there when I realized I was all alone and that you guys might not come after me.”
“I will always come after you, Holly. Good luck to anyone who tries to stop me.” He took his arm away and they walked the rest of the way to the club after taking the Spireway.
They reached the front doors and went inside. Torden, for once, wasn’t at the bar. There were only the dim safety lights on as Holly and Odeon walked through the ground floor and climbed the stairs up to the Nest.
Charly and Shiro were already there when Holly and Odeon entered. Torden was apparently sleeping on the couch, something that Holly noted. The Druiviin bartender wouldn’t leave the Nest with Charly out on a dangerous mission, or something. She smiled, glad that someone cared about her friend to do such things .
“Thanks, for ditching me, guys,” Holly teased. Shiro, she noticed, had the decency to blush in embarrassment.
“Odeon went after you. The other guard pursued me much longer than I would have considered possible.”
“And you sent me off, Holly. I have the information on the ship keycodes. You didn’t want me to head back and lose them? Besides, girl, we both knew Odeon had your back.” Charly sat down by Torden’s legs. He put his feet up on her lap and she rested her hand on his knee.
They were both right. She was teasing, but there was still something inside her that smarted from being left behind.
“What happened?” Charly asked, seeing the bruises forming on Holly’s face.
“Guess,” Holly said.
Darius came to stand in front of her. He took her face in his hands and tilted her head this way and that, inspecting the injury. “Who did it? I’m going to find them and I’m going to rip his balls off.”
“Holly took care of him, Darius,” Odeon said. “So you won’t be needing to do that.”
“Why didn’t you do it, Odeon?” Darius asked, nodding, his jaw clenched, his breathing rapid. His eyes flashed and he turned away. “I can’t even . . .” He began to pace and breathe in a rhythmic, slow manner to calm himself.
It was late. The team discussed the results of their mission. Charly gave her communicator to Darius. “I got them as well, when you looked them over—via your headset. But this is good. We have two forms of the files now. Back up.”
“Right on. Guess Holly and I could have stayed together.”
“That might have been helpful. The two of you could have overpowered the guard.”
“Thanks a lot, Darius. Where were you? You could have reminded us. So don’t heap a bunch of guilt on me. Goddamn, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you Hol.”
Darius didn’t answer.
“Not your fault, Charly. I did send you away. And I came away with just a minor scrape. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”
No one said anything for a few minutes. Darius moved to his bay of computers and pulled the files off of Charly’s communicator. Shiro had a cup of coffee in his hands. His eyes were dark and puffy. Charly’s head kept dipping forward as she fell asleep, then whipping back to position as she woke up. Odeon’s eyes were closed. Darius was the only one who looked remotely alert. Holly had her suspicions about that.
“Let’s all of us go back to our respective houses and sleep this one off. Be back here in the afternoon. Then we can start finishing this.”
Odeon leapt to his feet. “I’ll see you home, Holly.”
“Actually, Odeon, chap, if you wouldn’t mind too much. I’d love to be see Ms. Drake home. If, that is, alright with you, Holly.”
She looked between the two of them, back and forth, wondering if either of them were necessary. “I’m heading out. You two duke it out. Charly, see you tomorrow, girl. Get some sleep. You’re beyond tired.” She went down the stairs and out the front door. She was almost to the corner by the time Shiro caught up to her.
“What’s the hurry, Ms. Drake?” Shiro asked.
“Fatigue. So, you won, Shiro.”
“We drew straws. Odeon lost. Besides, he nearly staged your rescue back at the Megaron. If you weren’t so self-reliant, he could have done it. But I hear you saved yourself. Bravo, Ms. Drake.”
“Is that sarcasm?”
“I wouldn’t dare. Your strength is truly admirable. I must admit, however, that seeing the bruising on your face brings out my own instincts. I feel as Darius expressed, that I would like to destroy the male who did that to you.”
“It was the Constie guard.”
“Did he do anything else?” Shiro asked, looking at her from the corner of his eye. He used his lionhead cane to walk, spinning it casually.
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
Shiro stopped on the corner where the Green Jade district gave away to the Ice Jade district. There were very few people out walking. They’d reached a market district and the tents were all closed up. Light from the streetlamps illuminated their path, as well as the faint glow of lights that shone through the jade the covered the buildings. Holly stopped as well and turned to look at Shiro.
“What?” She asked.
“Holly. Did he hurt you in any other ways?”
She’d never seen Shiro this mad, except the time that she fought with him about haggling back on Joppa. And then it was a different sort of anger. This was barely suppressed rage. His dark eyes flashed—she could see it in the shade cast by the brim of his bowler. His lips quivered. And he’d called her Holly, not Ms. Drake. Her stomach flipped at hearing her first name on his voice.
She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to admit the inherent weakness in her body, that a male could choose to overpower her, and without her being more clever or strategic, she would lose. It made her want to roar, to become a giant, and tear through the city, demolishing buildings in her path and making men cower before her. She was tired of being at a disadvantage without a gun or via more clever means.
But, she also didn’t want to care. If Shiro, Odeon, or Darius knew, what the fuck did it matter?
“He tried,” she said. “I outwitted the dickhead.”
She turned and began walking again, feeling the weakness in herself and wanting to run from it.
Shiro ran to catch up to her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
“I took care of it.”
“You did. Admirable. I admire your strength.”
“It isn’t strength. It’s being clever. Males will always be stronger than me. It’s unfair. I hate it.”
“Ah yes, I understand. There will always be a male that’s stronger than me, as well. If you hadn’t noticed, I’m a slender Earthling, whose ancestors had to invent clever martial arts to fight back against stronger, more physically robust males.”
“It’s not the same.”
“No, you’re right. I just want you to understand that perhaps in some tiny way, I ca
n grasp the struggle.”
“Let’s change the subject.”
“Agreed.”
They came to Yellow Jade district. More was happening on the streets than in the previous two districts. This was a district where the poorer classes who took care of the inhabitants of the wealthier districts lived. Different modes of transport funneled them in and they walked along the streets to their homes, stopped into the bodegas and bought groceries before heading to their condos.
Neither of Shiro nor Holly said much more and soon Holly was letting herself into her condo with Shiro standing beside her.
“Good night, then,” she said at the door.
“That’s it?” He asked.
“I’m tired. You’re tired.”
“Very well, I won’t try to convince you.” He turned to go.
Holly sighed. “Fine. Come in for a minute.” She went in and took her shoes off by the door.
He grinned and followed her inside. “Why thank you. So kind of you.”
She wasn’t in the mood for his attempts at being cute. Though she was somewhat thankful that he’d joined her on the walk—she was getting tired of being surprised by perpetrators—she was too tired to entertain.
“It’s your condo, Holly, but can I get you something to drink? You seem exhausted.”
“I am. And yes. Just a glass of wine. There’s some on the counter, under the cabinet.”
“Sit down, let me get this for you,” he said, tossing his cane and bowler onto the seat of the empty armchair.
She was going to do that, even if he hadn’t invited her to. She yawned and stretched, sitting down on the sofa and stretching her legs out to put on the Ottoman. What a weird word. Ottoman. What did it mean? She wondered lazily. Maybe she was more tired than usual.
“Why are you calling me Holly and not Ms. Drake?” She asked Shiro. Her speech was slurred. She could hear it.
Shiro came into the living room, two glasses of wine in his hands. He handed her a glass. “Is it bothering you? I didn’t realize I was doing it.”
Heart of the Colossus: A Steampunk Space Opera Adventure (A Holly Drake Job Book 3) Page 15
