“Beautiful,” Shiro finished for her. They exchanged a surprised look. “This is one of my favorite places in the entire City of Jade Spires.”
Holly leaned away from him, her view of Shiro changing in an instant. “Mine too.”
“Ah, Jace,” Voss said as they reached the counter. “I wondered if you’d come. I’d hoped you would.”
“Ms. Voss,” Shiro said in greeting. “Please, allow me to introduce my colleagues, Ms. Drake and Mr. Starlight.”
“We’ve met,” Voss said, giving Holly and Odeon a grimace more than a smile.
“Wonderful to see you again,” Holly said, knowing that her face must have said otherwise.
“I’m sure.” Voss moved away from the counter. “Shall we go over here, for privacy?” She led them to an area with shelves situated around a rug, low bamboo tables, and arm chairs. They each took a seat. “I come here to relax, to read, to fill out my latest fetish: books.”
“I love books as well,” Shiro said.
“Oh please, Shiro, stop,” Darius said in their earpieces. Holly grinned, thankful she didn’t have to interrupt Shiro’s butt-kissing, that Darius would do it instead.
“I really do.”
Voss looked taken aback. “I didn’t question it.” Then she realized. “Oh, someone in your ear?”
Shiro tried to look busy, suddenly interested in his fingernails.
“That Darius?” Voss asked.
Holly pulled the Skelty Key out of her bag. “Let’s get down to it.” She handed it over. “This is what you wanted?”
Voss took the Skelty Key from Holly. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Great,” Holly said, standing up. “Thanks for letting us use it. We’ve got other things to do, so we’ll just be going.”
Voss also rose. “One minute. I had something else. Can we please sit back down for a moment?”
Holly glared at the woman. Her face, hair, everything about her was impeccable. Dark, flowing locks with just the right amount of curl. Eyes that seared through Holly with their green intensity. A smile that lit the world on fire. And she was dressed in the traditional Druiviin attire like she could put on the culture of other races at will and meld into the background. She was impossible to like, but impossible to hate as well.
“Fine.” Holly lowered herself back to the chair. “What?”
“You’re a crew, right?” Voss said.
“Of course,” Shiro answered. “That is. We’re friends. And we sometimes work together.” His soft brown cheeks colored slightly. He was dangerous around Voss—he wanted to impress her so much that he’d tell her whatever she wanted to know. Holly wondered right then just how he’d avoided telling her his real name back on Itzcap when he was going by Jace.
“I usually work alone, or at most, in tandem with one other person. But I’ve hit a slow patch. I’d like to offer you my services. Which would bring the use of the Skelty Key back into your repertoire.”
Shiro opened his mouth.
Holly saw it, and spoke quickly, “No.”
Shiro closed his mouth and looked at Holly.
“We’re full. We don’t need anyone else.”
“We could use someone with her skills, however,” Shiro said.
Holly glared at him. Why had she expected him to not be insubordinate, especially about Voss? What he really meant was “we could use a beautiful woman on the team.”
“I think we’re good, Shiro,” Holly said, standing up again.
It was irksome to watch Shiro wrapping himself around her finger. It was a mindless act and it disturbed Holly that her teammate couldn’t see that that was what was happening to him. He was completely unaware. Completely idiotic in the face of a woman like Voss.
Voss stood as well, perhaps seeing that the final decision rested on Holly. “Well, if you change your mind, Darius knows where to find me.”
EIGHT
THE inside of the bodega smelled like a thousand different spices. Vegetables and fruits from the different planets rested in boxes stacked atop shelves. Chamblos, xinfra, oranges, apples, bananas, marangs and quabbu fruit from the Centaurus region. It had been a long time since Holly had shopped for food on her own. Strangely, Graf had done all that. Part of his control—he didn’t want her to spend money they didn’t need to spend.
A task that should have taken perhaps twenty minutes, stretched into an hour as she stood before shelves and considered what she wanted. The bodega was busy. Humans and Constellations shifted around her, passing her by, bumping into her as she weighed her options and debated over what sort of life she wanted to live and express in her culinary decisions.
Finally, she had the items to make a few dishes that she knew she preferred, a great selection of beer and wine, and the other necessities she required to fluff out the little nest in the spire-top she’d arranged for herself. The bed had been delivered, as had the sofa, table, and chairs. She paid the bodega clerk and left, carrying her supplies home in two canvas bags.
Earlier that day, she’d seen Aimee Voss at the bookstore, which all things considered could have been much worse. Somehow they’d managed to get away from her without Shiro inviting her onto the crew. Holly hoped that now that Voss had the Skelty Key again, there would never be another reason to see Voss. Ever. In her entire life.
It didn’t seem like an impossible request. There were millions of people in the 6-Moon region. If Holly was lucky, Voss lived on another moon and had only been on Kota to get back the key.
Holly stopped and drew in a breath and held it.
The streets were busy. But something made the hair on the back of her neck stand straight up. She paused as the meager crowd of night-time pedestrians streamed around her. She turned and scanned the crowd behind herself. Neon lights on the edges of the spires washed the mostly human and Constie faces in strange colors.
She turned back around and began walking back to her building again. The crowd parted and ahead of her. A familiar figure stood, watching her, balancing its hands on a lion head cane.
“Ms. Drake, hello.” Shiro spun his cane and fell into step with her.
Holly blinked and shook her head. “Why do I feel like you’re following me?”
“Because I am.”
“You’re not even going to deny it?”
“No, however, I should correct myself. I was here in the Lavender Jade district for a housewarming slash cocktail party. When I left, I realized, you never threw yourself a party of that sort. I came looking for you. Darius knew right where you were. I stopped here and waited when he said you were heading along the sidewalk.”
“My earpiece is still on. Just muted,” Holly said, then unmuted it. “I plan to have a strong word with Darius about telling people where I am who don’t need to know.”
“Hey, Drake. Seemed innocent enough,” Darius said on the other end, a humorous tone in his voice.
“You should know that Shiro is never innocent, Darius.”
Beside her Shiro laughed. He leaned down and lifted one of the bags from her hand. “May I?”
What the hell? Holly flinched, and jerked away, but Shiro still had a hold of the handle as well, and was pulled closer to her as she tried to get away from him. He fell against her before he could catch himself, grabbing her around the waist with the hand that held the cane, in the process, knocking Holly on the head with the top of it. He let go of the bag and caught her on the back with that hand as well, attempting to prevent her from falling down completely.
Holly’s heart pounded out a spool of adrenaline that energized her limbs. In sum, they managed to not fall flat onto the ground from the whole debacle, with Shiro muttering startled curses and doing his best to stop himself from landing flat on top of her.
“Sorry,” she said, as they pulled apart, untangling. Her heart still raced and she was out of breath in the aftermath of the fear and adrenalin.
“I should have asked, Holly, before presuming that I could just take the bag from your hand and that you�
�d let me.” Shiro spoke quickly. Holly stared at him, confused, then realized that he was embarrassed and that he’d used her first name and not his usual Ms. Drake. Her cheeks burned hotter at that realization.
And then Holly remembered that her mic was on, and that Darius and any of the other team members would have heard it too. She blushed and flipped her mic off.
“Here,” she said, shoving the bag at him, begrudgingly. “Thanks. My condo is just here, a little bit further.”
The crowds on the street had thinned even further as they got closer to Holly’s building. The two of them walked in a cloud of embarrassed silence. Holly wondered why Shiro felt it necessary to find her. Why is he here? Why wasn’t he out looking for Aimee Voss?
Before reaching her building, they came to a cross street that led into a dark alley. It was a street for building services access, not one used by traffic. Holly was so absorbed in her indignant thoughts that she didn’t notice the two figures that emerged from the shadows.
Shiro shouted and brought his cane about and thwacked one of the figures on the head. It wasn’t hard enough to do much damage. He dropped the bag and slipped the sheath off the sword, and stood on guard. Holly didn’t have time to grab for the Equalizer beneath her jacket, and the other figure grabbed her in a bear hug, preventing her from reaching for it in the first place. She dropped the bag, cringing to hear the bottles clink together. Quite randomly, her thoughts dwelled on whether or not her beer would survive the fall.
The fact that these bastards jumped her and maybe destroyed her drinks enraged her. She struggled against the arms that held her in a vise-grip. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?” She grunted at her opponent. “You might have just ruined my beer. You bastard!” The shout was a war-cry. She leapt as she said it, winding up her arm as much as possible. She would have liked more, but settled for the bit she managed and brought her elbow back as hard as possible into the ribs of the bastard holding onto her. She connected with a rib or two and heard a distinctly feminine cry of pain.
She stamped down on the foot behind her, and, as the woman holding her leaned forward in a involuntary reaction of pain, Holly swung her head back, connecting with either the forehead or the bridge of the woman’s nose. Holly muttered a thanks to Ixion that she’d been attacked by a woman of her own height. The woman let go and shrieked in pain.
Holly scurried away, not having many options about which direction she ran.
“Look out!” Shiro cried, just as she felt a stabbing pain in her upper arm. Holly’s knees almost buckled, as Shiro charged at the man he’d been fighting. Holly hissed and danced away from the man as Shiro swung his sword in a flurry of attacks.
The woman Holly had broken free from straightened. Her face was bloody from Holly’s head-butt. Holly reached behind her and pulled out her aether gun and aimed it at the woman, who yelped. “They’ve got a gun, let’s go,” the woman shouted. When she turned her head, Holly caught a glimpse in the neon lights of the Shadow Coalition tattoo on her neck.
“Yeah you better fucking run. You have ten seconds to get the hell out of here before I start shooting,” Holly said in a voice that sounded like cold steel.
The woman turned, made an obscene gesture at Holly and spat, then ran back into the dark alley, not waiting for her companion. He followed right behind her.
Once they were gone, Holly put her gun back. “Shit,” she said. “I’d thought someone was following me for a moment there. But when I saw you, I figured what was bothering me was you.”
“Ms. Drake, if I hadn’t been here, you would have been outnumbered. What purpose did they have in attacking us?” He re-sheathed his sword. “And was it a warning or were they trying to sincerely hurt you?”
Holly touched the gash in her shoulder. “I don’t know. I guess I’m glad you were here. Thank you.”
“You’re hurt,” he said, moving to her side to look at it. He winced. “Actually, I appear to have been stabbed as well.” He touched his side and pulled his black dress jacket open. Blood seeped out of a tear in his white shirt. “Bloody knife-wielding Shadow Coalition bastards.”
Holly picked up the bag of groceries she’d dropped and looked inside. The bottles were intact. She inhaled in relief. “Let’s go. I think we can clean you up in my condo.”
“I prefer that to the hospital. Plus, you have wine.”
NINE
SOON they were on the top floor of the spire. The front door opened once Holly palmed the scanner-lock. The lights rose to a pleasant level and Holly hurried inside. She placed the bag of groceries on the smooth white-stone countertop then began looking through the cabinets.
“Ms. Drake your place is lovely. Almost as brilliant as my condo,” Shiro said. He leaned his cane against a side table, took off his bowler and placed it on the table, then removed his jacket, letting out a soft breath as he moved.
“Thanks. I’m sure you’ve got the best of everything, Shiro,” Holly said, as she found the medical supplies that Meg had thrust on her before she left. Meg’s mantra was always be prepared for anything and everything. At the time Holly had sighed and teased Meg, irritated that her older sister was forcing good sense onto her. Now, however, Holly was grateful for Meg’s annoying foresight.
“I do. Thank you. Though I realize that you were saying it to tease me.” Shiro began pulling his shirt out of his pants, and undid his vest, then started to unbutton his dress shirt. He winced with every move as he sauntered slowly across the floor to the rug where the sofas were arranged.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Holly approached him, narrowing her eyes at his partial nudity, the ointment and bandages in her hand.
Shiro stopped. “I can’t clean this out with my shirt on. But I apologize. I should have asked if it was alright.” He yelped and pulled something out of his vest pocket—his pocket watch. He held it closer to his face and sighed. “Broken. It was my grandfather’s.”
“What happened to it?”
“It seems, in the tussle, the glass was shattered. It appears that the gears were crushed as well.”
Holly sat down on the couch that faced the room-size windows. The neon glow filtered in, as well as the hazy yellow-orange glow of Ixion. “It is. I was just messing with you. Come sit next to me.”
Shiro walked around to the front of the couch and sat down. He handed the watch to her. “Would you mind terribly, getting rid of it? It can probably be recycled.”
Holly accepted the watch. “Can’t it be fixed?”
“I’m afraid it’s an antique. The repairs would require a special artisan, and I fear there are none in the 6-moons.”
“I’m so sorry.” She placed it on the nearby end-table.
“Thank you. But really, nothing lasts forever.” His black bowtie hung loose around his neck. He leaned back and pulled his shirt open so that Holly could look at the injury.
“I didn’t even see what happened. Did the Shadow Coalition thug have a knife?”
“Don’t they always have knives? Knives are silent. They don’t draw the attention of onlookers. He stabbed you as well. It was the woman who had no weapon,” Shiro remarked.
Holly opened the container of ointment. It was a Centau creation and would begin to repair the damage immediately, while warding off infection. Holly never kept it around, at least, not while she lived with Graf. He’d been suspicious of medical things like that, as though for Holly to keep it around implied that she didn’t live in his perfect universe where he never laid a hand on her.
“Here,” she said, handing the container to Shiro. “You can put that on.”
Shiro blinked, hesitated, and laughed. “Of course.” He stuck his fingers into the ointment, hesitated, and groaned. “You’ll never believe this.”
“What?” Holly asked. She stood and took off her blazer and removed the Equalizer, which she placed carefully—with the barrel pointing away from them—on the low table at the center of the sofa configuration. She needed to also take off her long-sl
eeved dress shirt. She paused, then went with it. Surely Shiro had seen a woman in an athletic brassier. She undid the buttons of her shirt, and pulled it off her uninjured arm. Removing the edges of the fabric from the bloody mess on her shoulder muscle required a slow, careful hand. Holly bit her lip as she worked. “What won’t I believe?” She continued to work, pulling the shredded fabric piece by piece from the gash in her muscle. Some of the blood had dried. As she peeled pieces back, it began to bleed anew.
“Ms. Drake, can I help you?”
“No, go ahead and work on yourself. I got this.”
“That’s the problem,” Shiro admitted. “I’m not sure I can put that stuff on it.”
“The ointment?”
“Yes,” he said.
“And why can’t you?” She was nearly done. The blade must have been serrated, Holly realized, because the uneven nature of the tear through the cotton of her dress shirt was quite exaggerated. Blood oozed out and soaked into the untouched parts of her shirt. Her neck and arm were beginning to ache from the contorted position. It would have been easier to let Shiro do it. Yes. She knew that. She glanced down at him. His dark eyes watched her. His own injury exposed, his hands resting beside him on the white couch.
“While you may find it humorous, I’m too queasy to do it. I can help someone else, but myself? I tend to lose the contents of my stomach.”
She cringed. The injury was beginning to smart, as though paying attention to it caused the thing to throb more. “I’m almost done getting my shirt off. Then I’ll help you.”
“Yes, I’m quite aware that you’re nearly done removing your shirt.”
Holly ignored him. Surely he meant nothing more by it than that he could see for himself that she’d been taking off her shirt? What else could he mean? Her mind flashed back to a fateful moment while she had still been married to Graf, when she’d touched Elan for the first time. He was kind. They’d become friends, and she’d been able to be vulnerable with him. The memory stumbling upon her in that moment caused the heat to concentrate in her cheeks.
Hands of the Colossus Page 6
