He grabbed her hands. “It's fine, Sienna. Enjoy the moment.”
“Unless you don't think you have time,” she may have been sheltered, but she was smart. “Devon?”
“None of us know how much time we have,” he answered, which sent chills down her spine. “Can't we just enjoy the night, Sienna? Let's have a picnic. Here,” he reached for their rucksacks, and she knew that she didn't want to talk about it. But her stomach sank in fear as he tore open the food.
She had trusted him and come this far. Was she about to be on her own?
It wasn't exactly the way that she had planned their grand escape. If she was honest with herself as she lay on the cold floor, searching for sleep, she hadn't exactly planned it at all. Devon's plan had sounded wonderful, and she knew it would erase the burden that she felt on her chest as of late. But the night was cold, and she had never been cold without a remedy. She was used to being attached to her Maestros, to them protecting her, taking care of her, and making everything better. The life she had known before them was a life of tubes and hospitals; the life with them was a careful and well-planned strategy.
This made her feel more alone than ever.
She must have fallen asleep because it was somewhere near dawn that she awoke, her eyes flying open to an unfamiliar sound.
She rolled over, her shoulder crunching a bit of rock, and her senses suddenly on alert.
She didn't carry a weapon, and her magic–while powerful–wouldn't last more than a blast or two. If she was with her Maestros, she would have backed up into them, looking for support or instructions.
It took only a nanosecond to feel alone as she looked for the threat.
The threat, as it appeared, was Devon leaning into a corner and emptying the contents of his stomach onto the ground.
“Devon!” she scrambled up, the sleep leaving her quickly as she ran over to him. It didn't disgust her; she had grown up in a hospital. But she was incredibly concerned as she put her hands on his waist to support him as he finished.
“It's all right,” he tried to reassure her as he wiped his mouth. “It's all right.”
“Never in the history of ever has that been something that is all right,” she answered, confused. “What's going on?”
“I….” He crouched down as his legs shook, trying to steady himself. “Just hold on a moment.”
She knew she shouldn't, but she sent a ping into his system, checking the strength of his life force. Devon's life force had been weak since she met him; she was used to it. She knew that his body was raging war within him. However, the ping came back weaker than usual, and she felt differences from it. It was as if the war was more prominent, the broken and malformed blood cells clearer in her mind.
“What do you need?” she asked.
He took a deep breath. “I didn't grab much from the medication supply when we left,” he replied. “Grabbing more than a night's supply would alert Laura to exactly how long I intend to travel before we reached a proper medical base. She's smart like that. I thought I could get through a day or two without them.”
“But you can't,” she filled in the gaps. “I didn't realize you needed them that frequently.”
“Didn't used to,” he gasped, and she realized he was in pain. She eased him down against the wall, trying to think about the best thing to do. She wished that she could fix things for him, but she wasn't that powerful. Unless, she realized, she was.
“If I can resurrect, don't you think I can heal?” she asked him quietly. “Most of the healing magic these days is from trauma, but I'm special. We could try.”
“No!” He was firm on this. “I've seen what happens when you use magic, Sienna, and I don't want you to go through that. We have to figure out another way to do things.”
“It's not like there are multiple options, Devon.”
He paused. “There might be.”
She gave him a sideways glance. “What?” she asked, at last.
He took a deep breath, unsure if she would believe him. “When Laura and I were with Reynolds, he showed us his medical facility. He has rebels from all over the world–the best of the best. It may very well be that he has something that could help us. Both of us.”
“Willingly go to Reynolds?” Sienna asked in horror. “No! We can't do that.”
“Not even if it will save our lives?”
“Devon,” Sienna said in horror, “you told me you weren't considering–”
“I'm not considering his form of magic, or ours, or anyone's,” Devon sputtered. “I just want to be well, Sienna. I just want to live. Don't you want that as well?”
Their eyes met, and she knew that he could see into her soul. They wanted the same things, and she could see that now. He had a lot more courage than she did. She just had to be a little braver, than she was afraid.
“All right,” she said at last, trying to swallow her fear. “Should we go now? Can you make it?”
“I'm worried I won't make it if we don't at least try,” he said. “Can you gather up the things? Are you feeling well?”
“Better than you,” she said, before her head was suddenly invaded.
‘Sienna!’
Her Maestro's cry made her stop. It was instinct to answer, but she knew that she couldn't. If she did, she would give away their position. They had to stop worrying about her. They had to be warriors again, not caretakers. It was for the good of the universe.
‘Sienna, please tell me you're all right.’ Nathaniel's voice was strong, and she closed her eyes, fighting to block it out. ‘Just tell me you're all right,’ he pleaded.
She wanted to, but she would be lying. She was terrified, and she had never known less what was the right choice, than right now.
Eventually, his call stopped, and she was able to continue, picking up their sacks and erasing any evidence that they had been there. She had done this often enough on quests, covering their tracks. It felt wrong now to be going through those motions.
“All right,” she said after a few moments. “No one will know we were here now. I can cast a coverage spell, but–”
“I'll do it,” Devon said, already flicking his wrists. She watched with envy as his magic covered the ground. Despite the fact that he was pale and his eyes were weary, the spell didn't make him look any worse. It didn't rob him of health or attack him from the inside out. He was built to be a witch; he just wasn't built to live.
She wasn't sure exactly what she was built to be, but she had a feeling it wasn't either of those things.
“Let's go,” she said, and Devon gingerly picked up his pack. “Do you know the way? I'm turned around.”
“I do,” he said. “I'm just trying to consider what's best. Should we take the back alleys and have no witnesses if something happens? Or should we be out in the open where we could be spotted, but an attack on us is less likely to happen?”
“Black Caesar,” she said. “You're worried about him.”
“Partially,” he said. “I was also thinking that if I don't make it, if I need help….”
“You have help,” she said, raising her chin. “You have me. It's going to be all right.”
He smiled painfully at her. “That's my girl,” he said. “Come on, then, we should get started.”
He held out his arm, and she took it, gripping for strength and confidence. They were going to make it, because they had no other choice.
Chapter 15
“Nothing,” Nathaniel said, sleepless at dawn as he tried yet again to ping Sienna. He and Desmond had searched what felt like half the planet, just trying to feel any traces of her magic. Normal Tiros could not block out their Maestros as she could. But Sienna was anything but a normal Tiro. It was times like this that they were reminded of just how powerful she was. “I can't keep trying and getting no response. It's–”
“I know,” Desmond had been silent through most of this, and Nathaniel realized that it was more than just Sienna missing that weighed heavily on his mind.
<
br /> “This isn't like Reynolds,” he said, softly. “This isn't the same.”
“Isn't it?” Desmond said dryly. “I don't even know why we are looking, Nathaniel, if she doesn't want to be found.”
“Desmond, she could be captured! She could be in danger! She could be hurt, or–”
“Tiro,” Desmond met his eyes, “she may be blocking out your words, but you and I would both know if she was hurt or in danger, wouldn't we? We would feel that in the air, feel it as if it was our pain.”
Nathaniel faltered. “Maybe….”
Desmond shook his head with a small smirk. “Maybe?”
Nathaniel tried to search for different words. “All right, quite possibly. But just because she's not in danger this moment doesn't meant that she won't be shortly. You know how many people are after her.”
“The Jurors would tell us to abandon this case,” Desmond said quietly. “A Tiro who leaves on their own is not be pursued. I would know.”
“The Jurors be damned!” Nathaniel cried, and Desmond raised an eyebrow.
“Well, that's just it, isn't it Nathaniel?”
Nathaniel stopped, confused. “What?”
Desmond took a deep breath. “The Jurors be damned is pretty much how we've been operating since we got her, isn't it?”
Nathaniel fell quiet as he realized his former Maestro's point. “No,” he said at last. “We've–”
“If you're going to say we've taken their advice, that's laughable, because we've done nothing of the sort. From the moment she walked into our lives, we chose a path that was inadvisable. I,” he corrected himself, “chose a path that was inadvisable for both of us, and you came to bond with her the same as I. We have valiantly denied every suggestion and request they had, sealed her files, chosen paths for educations and quests that they haven't approved, only because Maestros have rights over their Tiros.”
“It's always worked out well for you before.” Nathaniel said, trying to reassure his former maestro. “I'm here only because you fought for me. And Christa.”
“But not Reynolds,” Desmond pointed out. “I failed at my very first attempt, and it appears that is coming back to haunt me. I damned the Jurors with Mariah, and look where it's gotten us.”
“You cannot shoulder this whole burden on yourself, Maestro,” Nathaniel said softly. “Sometimes, fate lays different cards for us, and nature has a whole different path.”
“I highly doubt nature intended us to take this path.”
“What are you saying?” Nathaniel asked. “When we find her....”
“If we find her, and she wants to return, I imagine things will be different,” Desmond said. “For all of us.”
“They won't be.” Nathaniel held his chin high. “I will not abandon her.”
Desmond said nothing to that, and Nathaniel could feel his very spirit torn.
They walked in silence for a few minutes until the younger Maestro spoke. “I have an idea,” he said. “If Black Caesar's followers are looking for her, they might have a better grasp on where she is than we do. And if they do, perhaps they can lead us right to her.”
“How?” Desmond asked. Nathaniel cocked his head with a slight smile.
“You can't do imitation magic? Using the bond?”
Desmond rolled his eyes. “I can do intimidation magic just fine, young one. But in case you haven't noticed in the past few years, our Tiro has an incredibly unique magical signature. Imitating her would not be easy.”
“Nothing worthwhile is easy,” Nathaniel answered with a smile. “Isn't that what you taught me?”
“And I'm regretting it every day,” Desmond said pausing by a tree. The easiest place to do any kind of magic was standing by nature, ready to draw from its support. “You want me to start?”
“I thought you couldn't do it?” Nathaniel teased him, always trying to find the humor in any situation. Desmond reached out to the tree, taking a moment to refuel himself.
“I didn't say I couldn't do it,” he said. “I just wasn't sure I could create a good enough signature for them to be fooled. We don't want them to know we are on to them.”
“After you killed the minions who tied me up?” Nathaniel asked. “I think they have a pretty good idea that we're onto them. Now....”
Both of them fell silent as they drew the energy to continue. Nathaniel found it easier to work on creating a magical signature that would be hers if she was well. Using his usual attention to detail, Desmond began to trim and cut pieces out of it, creating the powerful and yet broken line that she always left behind.
When they were ready, they both pushed their palms forward, leaving a scar in the atmosphere.
“Do you think that will do it?” Nathaniel asked.
“It will have to,” Desmond said. “If we continue to leave those every few feet, I'm sure it will attract them, even if they aren't sure it's her. It's the best we can do for now.”
“I wish I was bonded to Laura. I would check in with her,” Nathaniel said. “I used to be able to push some thoughts through, but not at this distance.”
“I'm sure that Laura is moving along just fine,” Desmond said. “You have to remember, Devon is still answering her. He's not as removed as Sienna.”
“Sienna isn't answering because she's scared,” Nathaniel assured him. “We'll find her.”
“I hope so,” Desmond replied, biting back another comment. He knew that his Tiro hadn't run to Reynolds' side, but he couldn't help but remember what had happened when he had found Reynolds. This was a trip down memory lane that he did not want to take.
Meanwhile, Laura was on the other side of the city, and true to Desmond's word, she was moving along just fine. Devon's choice to answer her had made him easier to trace, and she came upon the warehouse where they had spent the night.
It was wiped clean, but she had expected that. She had taught him well, although she never thought that he would now be using it against her. It was hurtful, but at the same time, she understood. She didn't want Devon to be in pain; no parent would want that for their child. She just wished that he had chosen a better way to do it or, at least, a better place than a planet with a girl that everyone wanted to capture.
She paused when she got to the corner of the warehouse, her nose wrinkling. They may have wiped away all magical traces of their presence, but they hadn't quite cleaned up after themselves.
He was getting sick exactly when she knew he would, based on the medication that he had taken with him. Devon liked to think he was invincible, which annoyed her to no end some days. But today, it verified her thoughts that he was here.
“But where did you go from here, my dear?” she asked, closing her eyes. ‘Devon.’
She didn't expect him to answer; that would be too obvious. Instead, she followed her instincts out the door and onto the busy street. The warehouse was at the edge of the market district, and the market was already bustling with people. She paused, trying to think like Devon.
He would choose the busiest path with the most witnesses if he didn't want to be captured.
Laura approached the market stalls cautiously, watching for anything out of place. She didn't want to stand out, and so she moved from stall to stall as if she was carefully considering each of her purchases. She picked up some fruit, and then a dress, looking at each detail, while reaching out with her magical senses, trying to pick up their trail.
“Can I help you?” someone said to her, and she looked up. There was a shopkeeper standing there, his eyes ablaze as he saw her. He was clearly taking in her well-made clothing and strong form and assuming she had money. “Special deal on that today.”
“Oh,” Laura said, trying to think about how she was going to play this. Normally, she and Devon had a well-thought-out plan for any situation. But this wasn't exactly something she expected in any scenario. “I would. It's just…I've given my siblings the money, and they took off this morning, looking for their own purchases.” She didn't look old enough to be Dev
on's mother, but he and Sienna looked humanoid, and she was hoping that the pink-skinned alien with three eyes in front of her wouldn't be able to distinguish just how different they all were. “Maybe you've seen them?”
“Maybe?” the shopkeeper said. “What do they look like?”
“Boy and girl, about this tall, almost adult,” she said. “Stayed up all night, so probably a bit tired and dazed. Rascals, they are. Would they have walked through here?”
He paused so long that she was afraid he had drifted into some sort of trance. He closed his eyes, humming, and Laura was about to ask again when his eyes suddenly snapped open. “Yes,” he said. “Yes. I did see them.”
“Where did you see them? When did you see them?” She leaned forward a little too eagerly, and the shopkeeper narrowed his eyes.
“How do I know that you want them for good intentions?”
“What?” Laura asked.
“There's a lot of souls on this planet hunting others for bad reasons,” the shopkeeper said. “How do I know you aren't one of them?”
“They are family!” Laura cried, hoping she sounded believable. They were, after all, in a way. Devon was the closest thing she would ever have to family. The Tiros after him would live up to his example, which she hoped was going to include a happy ending. “Please.”
Apparently, she was convincing enough, because the shopkeeper pointed down the crowded lane.
“I saw a couple who could be them, going that way. But....”
“But?” Laura asked, confused.
“Don't think it was them.”
“Why not?” she replied.
“Because you said they are siblings, right? Not sure how you humanoids do it, but I saw them kissing over there by that tree.”
“That's them,” Laura said, turning on her heel and leaving the shopkeeper incredibly confused as she began to follow the path, sending out magical pings.
She suddenly stopped as one of her pings was returned.
“Devon?” she asked to the crowd around her. Her pings came back at her full force as she heard a scream at the far end of the street.
Hunting the Rogues (Shadow Claw Book 8) Page 47
