Rift (Roran Curse Book 3)

by Heidi J. Leavitt

  Rawle grunted and tapped at his tablet.

  “All right. Standard terms, then. Does he,” here Rawle jerked his head at Jimmy, “know how this works?”

  Jimmy nodded. Grier had explained it. Rawle traded mostly in information. If they had something useful to tell him, he would share something useful in return. If they didn’t have anything helpful enough, he might be willing to trade for the right price.

  “First, the reminders,” Rawle stated in a monotone. “Grier Nuris, should anything happen to me you will find that the name and address of your wife will be automatically sent to Shen Cluff. James Forrest, should anything happen to me, the location of your brother’s lab will be sent to Ryker Hoshan.”

  “Who in the name of the stars is Ryker Hoshan?” Jimmy asked, baffled. “Why would he care where Jax is?”

  “He’s a rival from another planet,” Grier answered before Rawle could say anything. “From Critias, I believe.”

  “Oh . . . kay,” Jimmy said slowly, dragging out the word. A rival? But if there was someone truly determined to track Jax down, he should have been able to do it already. It’s not like their home was some kind of deeply guarded secret, and if it had been, obviously the secret was out.

  “If that is not enough motivation,” Rawle added, “there is also a file that will be sent to Admiral Donnell with proof of your frequent betrayals of his daughter.”

  “What?” exclaimed Jimmy, not sure he had heard correctly.

  “I will send him proof of your regular cheating on your wife with other women,” Rawle clarified with relish.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Jimmy scoffed.

  “My details are very convincing,” Rawle suggested. Jimmy laughed derisively.

  “Made up details. The admiral knows me better than that.” But even as he said it, he remembered the doubt the admiral had expressed when the surveillance vid made it appear that Jenna had walked out on him of her own free will.

  “Does he? Do you know how a tiny seed of doubt can fester?” Rawle’s tone was malicious. Jimmy started to rise out of his seat.

  “Enough of this,” Grier barked. “Terms accepted. Mr. James, sit back down.”

  Jimmy settled back into his seat, his gaze icy as he held Rawle’s eyes. The light reflected off the glasses, making his eyes hard to read, but there was no mistaking the sardonic grin. Jimmy took a deep breath, shoving down his irritation. This man might be able to help them find Jenna. He could put up with baseless insinuations.

  “What do you have to offer, Grier?” Rawle asked eagerly.

  “I can tell you how the Quintans found Quartos,” Grier said.

  Rawle shook his head. “Not good enough. Quartos is already dead. People know that Quintan will track down his enemies eventually.”

  “What about giving me the plans to the local gate?” Rawle countered. Jimmy snorted. “If I had that to give, do you think I would be a not-so-rich-anymore playboy, as you so eloquently put it?” This guy was useless. He wondered what Grier planned to try next if they couldn’t get anything out of Rawle.

  “How about the name of Mr. Quintan’s Armada contact?” Grier suggested.

  “Already have it,” Rawle rejected with a wave of his hand. Jimmy cocked his head thoughtfully. Lev Quintan had dealings with the Armada? Interesting. Though in some ways, it wasn’t a surprise. He’d long known that part of the Quintan-Forrest business strategy was paying off all the right government officials. It was the only way to get the government to leave the company more or less alone. Maybe the Armada was just one more hoop the business had to jump through.

  Rawle tapped his finger thoughtfully against the side of his tablet.

  “Get me a personal meeting with Moriel Quintan,” he said at last.

  “Done,” Grier agreed. Jimmy stared from Grier to Rawle. Really? That was good enough? Though if Moriel hated Rawle as much as it sounded she did, that might be an impossible price to pay.

  “Here’s your lead, then,” Rawle said, swiping at his tablet and entering a passcode. “This vid was put out discreetly to certain buyers in a very . . . discriminating market, shall we say.” He tapped at the screen, and the screen flared to life.

  It was a shot that panned across five medical capsules, the kind they used when they had to keep someone in suspended animation or a medically induced coma. All five were occupied.

  Mrs. Smitz’s face was slack, her wrinkles exaggerated. Erik had a hand up by his cheek, as if he’d been about to stick his thumb in his mouth when he’d fallen asleep. Berry’s mouth was turned down, as if even her comatose dreams were unpleasant. Kendra’s golden hair was plastered across her face, and she had a thin red welt on her neck. In the last capsule lay Jenna, a vivid bruise blooming on one cheek. Like all the others, she had her eyes closed and was as still as death. The camera panned across all five capsules so quickly that Jimmy barely got a glance at each. A caption at the end of the vid displayed a simple message: Opening bids start at ten thousand senines.

  Time seemed to stretch in impossible ways. He stared at the tablet, blinking slowly, the world swimming around him. Then Rawle flicked the tablet off, and the world snapped back into focus.

  “What did it mean, opening bids?” Jimmy asked hoarsely.

  Rawle stared at him, not a hint of emotion in his face. It was Grier who answered, his voice grave. “They are auctioning off the members of your family. As a group, or perhaps individually.”

  Jimmy turned to look at Grier uncomprehendingly. “What?”

  “Very valuable hostages are sometimes kidnapped and then auctioned off to other buyers, who may in turn ask for ransom or otherwise . . . use them,” Grier explained carefully. Jimmy flinched.

  “I want a copy of that vid,” Grier said coolly. Rawle tapped at his tablet for a moment, and then Grier’s flipcom pinged.

  Jimmy was still trying to process the idea that someone might auction off his family to enemies who would use them for revenge. His traitorous mind dredged up memories of enemies that Lev Quintan had executed in the past. Would some of their friends or family repay the favor in kind?

  Rawle spoke, interrupting his increasingly horrified thoughts. “You should be flattered, Forrest. The starting bid is high, meaning your family is quite valuable. First, what tremendous ransom might they wrangle out of Jay Forrest? Might they even be able to demand the plans to the gate? But perhaps the buyer isn’t interested in money. Maybe they want some kind of favor from the Armada instead? Maybe a political prisoner released? No problem! The other grandfather is an admiral!” Rawle chuckled with relish. Jimmy’s stomach churned uneasily. “Or maybe someone will pay for them who only wants revenge—there are many people who would pay to inflict such agony on a Forrest or a Donnell.”

  Grier grabbed his arm, and Jimmy realized belatedly that he had moved toward Rawle again, his fists clenched.

  “Best of all,” continued Rawle with a glint in his eye, “they have five hostages. Five times the opportunity for profit!”

  Jimmy lunged out of his seat at Rawle, and Grier hauled him backward.

  “Now, now,” Rawle said with a smirk, stepping away. “You don’t want to attack me. I’m just the messenger.”

  “Who has them?” Jimmy hissed, furious.

  Rawle shrugged, unconcerned. “Unfortunately, I was not one of the targeted buyers, so I don’t have any more information than this.”

  “Who traded you that vid then?” Grier asked, his voice calm even as he held Jimmy in a vise grip.

  “Oh, Nuris, you know the rules. I never divulge a source,” Rawle said dismissively. “It’s protected you often enough.”

  Jimmy stared at Rawle, trying to get his breathing under control. He still wanted to smash Rawle’s face into pulp. How could he talk so gleefully about someone auctioning off his kids to be tortured?

  “I’m done with you both. Get out. I’ll
expect a comm with the meeting details by tomorrow noon, Nuris, or our bargain will be considered unfulfilled,” Rawle ordered. Grier forcefully turned Jimmy and pushed him toward the door. Rawle opened it behind them, and they staggered back out into the night.

  12. Jenna Wakes Up

  Jenna floated in a turbulent sea, surrounded by specks of light that darted and swooped above her. Some streaked right into her, piercing her chest with short, agonizing bursts of pain. Below her something swam in the darkness, bumping into her legs and her back. The lights above coalesced, forming broad swaths of brightness that she couldn’t look at. They swirled around the sky, faster and faster, the wind whipping the sea into huge waves that pitched Jenna about and shoved water down her throat. The bumping from the invisible creatures in the water grew fiercer and more frequent, but Jenna couldn’t even move her arms or legs. She was frozen but miraculously not sinking, unable to stop the water from blinding her eyes and plugging her nose, unable to fend off the sea creatures. Then the creatures started to nibble at her legs and arms, gently at first, and then with sharp ripping attacks, needlelike teeth gouging at her flesh. She wanted to scream, but her mouth wouldn’t open, so the scream went on and on and on in her mind until the great whirling streak of light swooped down and washed over her, burning like she’d been tossed into a furnace.

  Her eyes opened with a jerk, and she whimpered.

  Where was she?

  The room around her was lit only dimly. There were no windows, nor any doors that she could see. The only light came from an overhead fixture, a nondescript tube light that could be found anywhere. She was lying in a medical capsule, her whole body damp from the suspension liquid that had drained away.

  A voice next to her spoke, “She’s awake.” The voice was crackly. It came through a distortion box, a trick to make sure that she couldn’t recognize the voice. She tried to twist her head in search of the person, but her neck screamed with stiffness. She groaned involuntarily. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a row of medical capsules beside her own with glowing display panels on the side.

  Suddenly, it all came back to her.

  These monsters had her children.

  In the restaurant in Omphalos, she had just pulled herself together in the restroom, determined not to let her worry over her sister take over her life anymore, when a strange woman had stepped next to her.

  “You should take a look at this,” she’d said, her voice polite. Jenna had been about to refuse, wondering what kind of shady person would approach her in a restroom, when the woman shoved a tablet in front of her. It was streaming a live feed. A live feed of three crying children that she instantly recognized.

  “I want my mommy!” wailed Berry. Erik was sobbing, his face buried into Kendra’s side. Kendra had tears streaming down her cheeks, and her nose was running.

  A black-clad figure stepped behind them and pressed a knife to Kendra’s neck. Kendra jerked, but then another pair of hands held her rigid. The knife pressed harder, just enough to draw blood on Kendra’s throat.

  Jenna choked, whirling on the stranger.

  “Where are they?” she hissed.

  “Listen to my instructions carefully,” the stranger had intoned in a clear voice. “I want you to leave this restaurant right now. Do not go back to your table. Do not speak to anyone. In front of the restaurant, there will be a taxi. Get in, and it will already be programmed to take you to your children. Follow these directions exactly, or your children will suffer. We don’t need all three,” the woman finished ominously. Jenna had hesitated, tempted to scream for help. But the woman flashed the tablet at her again. Another glance at her sobbing children, the blood already trickling down Kendra’s neck.

  “Go,” the stranger had ordered calmly.

  Jenna had turned and stumbled out the restroom door.

  Once in the taxi, she had searched the entire cabin for some way to get a message to Jimmy. There was no terminal, and she quickly realized in despair that she must have left her flipcom at the table. The taxi zipped along the streets using its automated path chosen by whoever had programmed the destination. The windows wouldn’t open and allow her to shout out for help. She thought about writing a message to leave in the taxi for another rider to find later, but she had no pen nor anything to write on. She’d just resorted to trying to gouge letters into the transport’s passenger seat with her fingernail when the taxi pulled up to a stop on a familiar road. She glanced out the window at the looming Quintan Tower and sucked in a hollow breath. Of course they were taking her into the Red Zone. Dropping her forehead onto the glass, she watched the large red signs pass by as they officially left the safety of Omphalos behind. Now she was in the sector where anybody could do anything, and the Armada wouldn’t lift a finger to help. She knew that from bitter firsthand experience.

  The taxi had pulled to a stop in front of a building across the street from the Quintan Edge resort. She stared out the window at a group of three figures wearing dark shirts and hats that shadowed their faces and made it difficult to get any idea of what they really looked like. For a moment her courage almost failed her. Then she took a deep breath and climbed out of the taxi.

  “Where are my children?” she had yelled at them, all her tension exploding at the sight of the imperturbable figures. No one answered her.

  “Hold out your arm,” one of them ordered.

  “I was told this would take me to my children. I’m not doing anything for you until you show me my children,” she demanded.

  Two of the figures stepped forward to grab her, but she skipped backward and pulled her atlatl gun from its holster. She downed one of the men before the other one swung his fist, crashing into her cheek and knocking her to her knees. Her face exploded in agony, but she tried to bring the gun up again. Her assailant kicked it from her hand, snapping her fingers back. She’d screeched involuntarily just before she felt the prick of a needle in the side of her neck.

  That was the last thing she remembered.

  Shuddering with the memories, Jenna tried to sit up, stifling a groan as her whole body protested. Were her children here? An arm wrapped around her back, and she stiffened, wanting to lash out, but the masked figure just helped her into a sitting position.

  “Carefully ease your legs out of the capsule,” the anonymous voice directed. “You will be weak, but with my help you should be able to stand.” Jenna obeyed, eager to get out of the capsule. Her head swam with dizziness, but as soon as she climbed out of the capsule and shakily stood, she stared hungrily at the other medical capsules. Inside she could make out the forms of Kendra, Berry, and Erik, and in the last one she could see Mrs. Smitz. All were unnaturally still, suspended in the liquid of the capsules.

  “Are they OK?” she asked, her voice raw and hoarse.

  “For now. You may check them for yourself if you wish.” The voice was expressionless, and Jenna couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman, but relief washed through her. Her captor continued to support her weight while she staggered over to the nearest capsule, which was Kendra’s. Though she was no medtech, she stared at the panel, which gave several numbers she didn’t understand, as well as the label “Condition: Stable.” She drank in her daughter’s small face, smooth and peaceful. There was no hint she was having any of the awful dreams that Jenna had. Her neck was already healing. There was nothing left but a red line to mark where the assailants had cut her.

  Moving on, she checked the capsules of the others, wishing she could gather her little ones into her arms and tell them it was going to be all right. She wished she could cry on Mrs. Smitz’s shoulder; the capable woman had always seemed so strong, so able to shoulder any burden, but now she seemed so frail and helpless. But each panel declared the condition of the capsule’s inhabitant to be stable, and she tried to reassure herself that her children at least looked peaceful. They wouldn’t remember any of this, hopefully.r />
  “Why?” she asked her captor simply. She didn’t get an answer.

  Another figure dragged a chair across the floor. “Sit,” the voice ordered peremptorily. She sank into the seat gratefully, her legs wobbly and weak. How long had she been in the capsule? Where was Jimmy? Had they done something to him?

  The person who had originally helped her out of the capsule took up position behind her chair. She could feel him (or her?) looming over her, but she didn’t look back. Instead, she curiously watched the other masked person, who stood in front of her with a flipcom, tapping methodically.

  “He’s answering,” the gravelly voice commented. “Answer any questions he asks, Ms. Forrest, or your children will suffer the consequences.”

  “Yes?” a man’s deep voice answered from the flipcom.

  “You requested a live confirmation,” the figure behind Jenna stated without preamble.

  “Ah.” There was a moment of silence, presumably while the man studied Jenna’s face on his end. She couldn’t see anything, though. “Are you Jenna Forrest?” the man finally asked.

  “Who are you?” she asked warily.

  “Just answer the question,” the figure behind her reminded sternly, prodding her back.

  “Are you Jenna Forrest?” the voice repeated impatiently.

  “Yes, I am,” she said, confused. Surely they knew who she was. After all, they had taken her children and somehow found her in Omphalos.

  “I want to see her walk,” the voice commanded. The figure behind Jenna yanked her to her feet and led her a short way from the chair, her other captor following them both with the flipcom.

  “Fine,” the man said shortly. “My bid is fifteen thousand senines. But only for her. I don’t need any of the others.” Jenna’s heart stuttered. A bid for fifteen thousand senines? That was a fortune! What did he want with her?