by Cait Ashwood
The boy couldn’t move his arm unless Stryker willed it. Judging from where his blade was positioned, it was his sword arm, too. Idiot.
“Obviously you don’t know your sister too well,” he coughed out, scanning the room for additional threats. He ducked as a dagger was thrown over his head, even though he knew it was too high to hit. The boy wasn’t alone.
“That was your warning not to run, boy.”
Stryker had never seen Zeche before, but everyone that had been in Ebonwallowe more than a few days knew what the assassin looked like because they needed to know who to avoid running into. I wish Sabre was here. He was sure his instructor could give the assassin a run for his money. As for him? Well... maybe not yet.
The next dagger came flying and Stryker deflected it, sending it skittering off to the side. Throwing knives came at him in a flurry and he burst into action. He got knicked in both arms, but nothing too serious considering the sheer speed and number of projectiles. He’s trying to keep me too busy to phase. As it was, he’d lost his concentration on big brother and the man was drawing a hand-and-a-half sword. He’d have a greater reach than Stryker, but would also be slower.
“Let me take him.” Rowan was circling him now, and the projectiles from the corner stopped.
Stryker was aware of movement on his flank and heard the lock on the door click into place moments later. He was locked in. He and the assassin had a similar build: short and slim. That meant that big brother over there would be familiar with those techniques. Stryker gritted his teeth as Rowan charged. He slipped under and around the strike, spinning and throwing his own blade out at the man’s midsection.
First blood was his as the boy grasped at his side. He recovered quickly though, the pain appearing to almost calm him down rather than further enrage him. The assassin at the door merely crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed as they gazed at his, what, student?
“I don’t have time for this.” Stryker didn’t see Tracker tattoos on the boy, and the assassin, by all reports, was no Seeker. As the assassin reached for something in his pocket, Stryker knew he had to leave. Rowan charged at him, blade swinging, but Stryker was gone by the time it would have hit.
Chapter Twelve
Vex’s nose had long gotten used to the faint scent that accompanied the charcoal mask she had spread on her face and the back of her hands. Stryker had gone to the surface on an unsanctioned trip, and Zad wanted to know why. An excuse to wait in ambush for her brother? Zaddicus knew just what to pick as a reward for her.
She moved in the shadows just enough to stay limber. She knew his phase range and was waiting about a hundred yards farther down the path, just in case. She’d instructed all the grunts to keep clear of the tunnel; this was between her and her brother. He’d gotten the jump on her in the cavern, but Vex was desperate to prove to her father that it was a one-time mistake. He may have use of the taint, but she had the ability to banish it. He wouldn’t catch her off-guard like that again.
Speaking of off-guard...
Living around Seekers her entire life, Vex had learned to tune in to their phasing frequencies. It was a learned skill, as strangers could maybe feel disturbed or have the hair on the back of their neck rise, but not have a clue what it meant. Someone had just phased in, and with any luck, it was her no-good brother.
Stryker didn’t bother to check his surroundings as he trudged down the tunnel. He rubbed at his neck and seemed to wince. Vex hesitated, letting him get closer. The coppery tang of blood hit her nose and she made up her mind.
She stepped out into the tunnel, arms crossed smugly over her chest. “Someone’s been out fighting.”
He jumped out of his skin, though seeing that it was her didn’t stop him from drawing his blades. One, as she suspected, was dirty. He hadn’t even bothered to clean the weapon before putting it back. She eyed the sword, then glanced up at him. “I know we’re not on the best of terms, dear brother, but surely that’s no way to greet your sister?”
His blades lowered slowly, his gaze full of mistrust. It was hard to see in the light, but dark bruises covered his throat. Someone else had caught him unawares today, but for the life of her, Vex couldn’t figure out why he’d allowed that sort of treatment. No Surfacer would have a chance at taking advantage of him like that unless they’d found a way to drug him first. She made a show of studying him, and the muscle twitching in his jaw made her chuckle to herself.
“Hopefully you at least tried to recruit the bastard that roughed you up. We could use actual fighters down here.”
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t rise to the bait like he usually would. “You wouldn’t want his sort. You prefer the dark, mysterious types to the blonds.”
Vex scrunched up her nose. “Ugh, blond, really? You let a weakling blondie rough you up?” She was not impressed. Blond hair, in their world, meant you were easily seen in the darkness. It was an inherent weakness that could only be overcome temporarily by dyes, and if there was anything Vex couldn’t tolerate, it was weakness.
Stryker scoffed. “It was more who was watching when he grabbed me. Had to wait to be concealed.”
Vex rolled her eyes but secretly applauded his choice. He couldn’t just start overpowering people with the taint in broad view of the general public. Word could get back to the Seekers, and then they’d have more trouble on their hands.
“Who were they?” If her idiot brother had managed to run afoul of their enemy, so help her, but she was not going to be lenient.
“Some bloke who thought I was banging his sister.” Stryker shrugged. There was something too casual in the movement. He was trying to throw her off the scent. Luckily for him, she couldn’t phase to verify his story. It may not have been Seekers he ran into, but he was targeted.
“Is that what you were doing on the surface, brother mine? Tired of the men down here, hmm?”
He gave her a deadpan stare. “I’m not like some of your toys, Vex. Besides, wouldn’t want your sloppy seconds.”
Vex reached for the whip at her side, flicking the clasp open and shaking it out. “The only reason to be on the surface is recruitment. You came back empty-handed.”
Stryker glanced at the whip, a glimmer of fear in his eyes. She was lethal with that thing, and they both knew it.
What she wasn’t expecting was for him to sheathe his weapons and stand there, eyes downcast.
“Well? Are you going to get on with it? I’ve got shit to do, if not.”
“I should take that pretty tongue from your mouth, brother mine. You can lead just as well without it.”
He shrugged, rolling his shoulders.
“Hmm. Since you’re just going to stand there, may as well take off your shirt. No sense wasting perfectly good cloth.”
He glared at her but complied. I don’t like this. She didn’t have any issue beating him senseless, whipping him to within an inch of his life, or even killing him if her father ordered it. But this open acceptance of his punishment was out of character for him. Either the surfacers had done more damage to him than he was letting on, or something else was going on in that head of his. Daddy always says he thinks too much.
Vex circled him as she thought, tapping her finger over her lips. “You’re much too compliant there, Stryker. What have you been getting yourself into?”
He shrugged, blowing her off. She flicked her wrist and sent the whip arcing through the air. He jerked as it hit his shoulders, but didn’t make a sound.
“This is an awful lot of trouble to get into over a girl. Does she have a magic cunt?”
His eyes were hard as she crossed in front of him, but he refused to answer.
She gave him a matching strike across his front and monitored the low-level tremble that ran through his arms. He was in more pain than he was letting on, and not all from her ministrations. Zad had said to teach him a lesson, and she wasn’t about to go against his orders.
“I don’t know what you think you have up there that’s worth c
overing up, but no one on the surface would care if you disappeared.” She watched him for any reaction and got none. She wasn’t sure if she approved of that or not, so down the whip came once more on his back. He grunted that time, his iron control slipping. Finally getting somewhere.
“At some point, you’re going to realize that the only people who really care about you are your family.” She let the whip fall again, though he was silent this time. “And a news flash, brother?” Another blow. “We’re not on the surface.”
Even in the poor lighting, she could see that he was pale. A few of the welts on his back had broken through the skin, leaving faint lines of blood across his back. He stood still as a statue as she walked around him, admiring her handiwork. She dipped her finger in his blood, and he couldn’t help but flinch. She paced back around to his chest and wiped her finger off.
“Blood is thicker than anything. It’s time you realize that.”
His eyes followed her finger and remained on the blood smear on his chest as she took a few steps back.
“Put your shirt on and get to bed. Can’t have the men seeing you like this.” As if he were an automaton, he obeyed her, and his calm obeisance was annoying as hell, and a bit unsettling. He was normally a sarcastic asshole, and he’d never been one to cave in or break under pressure. With Zaddicus’ plans coming up, now was not the right time to be falling apart.
She convinced herself to shrug it off. Going straight to bed also meant no dinner. His paleness stuck out in her mind, troubling her. There was a difference between teaching a lesson and allowing someone to neglect themselves into more dangerous state than was intended. She brushed past her slow-moving sibling to fetch a jug of water. At least then if he was stupid enough not to drink it, it wasn’t her fault if he woke up dead.
Oh, but what it would mean for her if he did.
Chapter Thirteen
A watched pot never boils, and the sun never sets when you wish. Zeche sat slumped a few alleys down from the inn, hood pulled over his hat and a ratty cloak pulled about his shoulders. He was in beggar garb, and most who passed him bought the act. He’d sent Rowan back to Nikita to get patched up, quite possibly against his better judgment. Still, the boy had learned to navigate the city quickly and needed to be trusted to start flying solo. He’d waited until the boy disappeared to send a raven to the Tower. The kid had phased away from them, so what they needed now was a Tracker.
That boy, though. The tainted teen had left the inn they were relatively sure Lily was staying in. Thunder was boarded there, at the very least. Zeche had recognized the horse that morning when they were checking various places in the city she could be staying. Rowan eavesdropped on the conversation the boy’d had with the innkeeper through an open window and had been too upset to tell Zeche exactly what was said. He could put the pieces together, but he wasn’t as convinced as his apprentice--no--partner, that the boy had hired her on for anything.
He said the boy is tainted, worse than the half-breeds, but not as bad as the third-gens. What would someone like that be doing in Ebonwallowe with Lily? And when did he come into the picture? Did she run away with him, or find him here? He let the thoughts mull around in his head, chasing each other around as they were wont to do. Normally, his brain puzzled out an answer faster if he didn’t try to direct the process.
He wouldn’t have brought her here if they’d run off together. The Ravens would have kept him away, and likely her as well. Either circumstance forced them here, or he’s newer to the picture. The horse was here and in good health, and Lily was in good enough health to have a room on the second floor. Coin didn’t seem to be a problem either, unless the boy was a thief and had come to the city to have the chance to liberate some purses to resupply them with funds. But Rowan said he’d paid the room up for a month, so she’s staying here. The innkeeper also didn’t appear to know him. The truth solidified in his mind. Somehow, in a city of thousands, Lily had run into quite possibly the most dangerous man on the streets completely by chance.
But why was the boy helping her, if that was what he was doing? You can’t help who you’re born. You more than anyone should know that. Zeche chuckled under his breath at that. He’d risen so far from his birth that it was nearly impossible to recognize him as the same person. He’d probably never figure out why the kid was hanging around, but he’d most certainly left after Rowan snatched him.
So, what do I tell Hound when he arrives? He’d been asked to find Lily, and he had. He’d not been asked to reveal her location, or to safeguard her. As a Watcher, however, his concern was much less with the teenage girl and much more on the boy who’d found her. The Tower kept strict records of all partial-breeds, and Zeche had watched training at the Institute enough to know that the boy wasn’t one of theirs. There was a chance he could be the offspring of one of the men that had escaped the raid on Zad’s compound all those years ago. He’d be about the right age, maybe a bit younger. There’s also a chance that we didn’t get them all. Rowan said he’s as strong as a half-breed. There are too many ways that could be accomplished, but we got all the women out. That meant that a fully tainted man would have had to have relations with a non-tainted female.
No. He used his skills too well for that and had no difficulty with phasing. Hell, what do I know? Zeche shook his head ever so slightly within his hood. All I know is that he came here for Lily. If he came once, he’ll come again. Until he does, she’s bait. We have to know what the bigger picture is, if there is one. He sighed, reluctant. He doubted Rowan would give him any lip about not returning Lily immediately to her family, but lying to Hound was not something to be undertaken lightly.
About an hour later, a raven call from a few streets over caught his attention. He stretched to his full height, groaning softly before emerging from the alley. Hound stood in the main street in traditional Seeker uniform: black leather with silver rings. The eye stitched on his shoulder would be done in gold were he a normal Seeker, but as he was a Tracker, it was stitched in green with an extra mark below it: a circle with a single dot in it. He was lightly armed, but people still moved around him like he was a rock in a river. He cast about, searching the crowd for Zeche.
A crooked smile tugged at his lips. I’ve still got it. They hadn’t called him the master of disguise for nothing, after all. Zeche joined the crowd of people moving past, shifting his gait so that it appeared he had a bad hip. He got about five feet past the Seeker before a strong hand gripped his bicep.
“That you?” Bloodshot eyes stared at him, blinking in the glare of the setting sun.
“Follow me.” Zeche spoke with a heavy accent and kept up his shambling gait, making the Seeker walk slower to accompany him. They ducked into a seemingly normal doorway that was actually only wide enough for them to stand before descending into a set of stairs that would lead them into one of the Raven’s ratways. Once the door closed behind him, the disguise came off and Zeche stood straight once again.
“What did you find?” Hound stood with his arms crossed over his chest and his nose wrinkled. Apparently the Seeker was offended by the odor of the passage.
“Nothing concrete. Just a kid acting weird that then phased out on us.” Zeche paused, unsure of just how much to tell Hound. Would the man be able to tell that the kid had been tainted? Hound had once been tainted himself, though there were different ways the toxin could enter your system. Hound had been slowly and systematically poisoned, so his grip on taint-related abilities had been tenuous at best. Audrey had also been able to cleanse him of it and, by all reports, he’d lost his connection with the substance. It was still risky not telling him, but Zeche could always pretend he didn’t know.
Hound snorted. “And where is your faithful sidekick? Afraid I’d drag him home where he belongs?” He raised an eyebrow but didn’t seem upset.
Zeche shook his head. “He got a bit careless with our slippery friend. Nikita’s patching him back up as we speak.”
Hound’s eyes narrowed, but he
let it go. “So, where’d he slip out on you?”
“I’d prefer to take you under the streets. I don’t want to draw too much attention to the area if he decides to come back.” It was partially true, anyway.
“You think he’s coming back to the place he got jumped?” Hound always had been a suspicious one.
“Let’s just say he has a lady friend staying nearby. Quite possibly of the paid variety.” Hell, Rowan thought it was true. Might as well go with the story, and it helped deflect questions about the nature of said lady friend.
Hound snorted, following without complaint as Zeche led him through the ratways. They came up in the house Rowan had dragged the kid into. Zeche lowered the trapdoor behind them and covered it back up with a ratty rug. He pushed a curtain out of the way and they were back in the one-room hovel. It was kept empty by Raven operatives. Everyone around town knew it was one of theirs, so only the dumb or the desperate ever attempted to use the place.
Hound’s shrewd eyes took in the place. It wasn’t much, but the recent damage from the daggers and throwing knives was obvious. “You tried to hold him.”
Zeche shrugged. “He surprised us, I’ll admit. I couldn’t get the magnet going fast enough.”
“Did you get it on at all?” Hound was heading toward the door, still looking around.
“No.” Zeche let the word trail up at the end, asking if he’d done the right thing.
“Good. Would have obliterated any trail.” Hound’s back was to Zeche, but he could see the green glow from the man’s eyes and tattoos reflecting off the wall. “Be back in a few.” The Seeker vanished into thin air.
