Word and Breath (Wordless Chronicles)

by Susannah Noel

  The physical pain was almost a relief. Something concrete and tangible to distract her from the knot of fear and grief in her gut that wouldn’t go away.

  She’d told Mikel as much of the story as she could—still careful to protect the Front’s secrets and the identities of the people involved. Mikel listened in silence as he gently wiped the dried blood from her skin. Only when she finished did he speak or react.

  “So you’re sure they were trying to kill you?” he asked after a moment’s further reflection.

  “I think so.” She sucked in a breath as Mikel wiped something sharp and bitter on her raw skin. “Jenson thought so.”

  As she said his name, her features twisted in sudden emotion, remembering Jenson’s face at the end, his urgency and resolve to keep her alive at any cost.

  She’d known him for years. But she’d never known he had that in him.

  A mild and ironically intelligent Reader.

  A man who’d died for her.

  “I had to leave him,” she whispered. “He was... I tried to help him, but he was... I had to leave him.” She was speaking as much to herself as she was to Mikel, feeling again the agonizing rent in her chest as she’d finally let Jenson’s limp body drop to the ground.

  His head had impacted hard against the pavement. The dull sound it made as it connected was perhaps the most horrible memory of all.

  “Of course.” Mikel’s voice and face were calm. He had finished disinfecting the wound and was now wrapping it with a bandage from his medicine cabinet. She noticed how carefully he worked, his long fingers infinitely precise as they brushed against her skin, even as he pulled the bandage tight.

  The delicate precision of his touch was an odd thing to notice, given the situation, but Riana kept observing it.

  “If they were trying to kill you, then you didn’t have a choice,” Mikel continued, his black eyes focused fixedly on his hands as he tended her wound. “Escaping was the only thing you could do.”

  She’d been hysterical when she’d seen him on the street a little while ago. She hadn’t known where she was running but wasn’t surprised she’d ended up on her block. The sight of Mikel heading into that coffee shop was like a miracle from heaven. She’d run to him instinctively and clung to him like a child.

  She was too drained and exhausted now to even be embarrassed by her behavior. Too spent to cry anymore. In some ways, her fatigue was a relief, a brief shelter from the turmoil of emotion.

  “So do you have any idea why someone would want to kill you?”

  “No. It makes no sense. If they kidnapped Jannie to get something from me, then why would they just turn around and shoot me?”

  “They wouldn’t.”

  Riana had to admire Mikel’s calm mental efficiency. Another man would have been confused, disbelieving, or alarmed by her bizarre story. Another man would have been too shocked to think things through completely. But Mikel had processed everything and was asking the most relevant questions—the questions that might lead them to answers.

  Questions Riana had barely been able to process herself.

  “It would make no sense for one person or group to orchestrate both things,” Mikel said, lifting her hands to tend the scratches on her palm she’d received from her fall. “It seems to imply that there are two groups involved.”

  “Two groups. Two groups after me.”

  She’d closed her eyes to deal with this idea, but when she opened them again, she noticed again the delicacy of Mikel’s touch. She couldn’t look away from his graceful fingers as they moved deftly over her hand. Like he was reluctant to make any unnecessary contact.

  It hurt her feelings a little. That he didn’t want to touch her the way she wanted to touch him. She remembered very vividly how strong and warm and masculine he’d felt when he’d held her a few minutes ago to comfort her.

  She pushed the stray thought back to the dark corner of her mind, where it belonged. It was ridiculous to think of such things when so many more important things were happening.

  “So, if we assume for the sake of argument that the Union has your sister, perhaps the people trying to kill you don’t want you to talk to the Union. Can you think of anyone who wouldn’t want you to talk to the Union?”

  “Just the Front,” Riana said. Then her eyes shot up to Mikel’s. “But the sniper wasn’t them! I told you—they’ve been trying to help me.”

  “They also got you into this.” Before she could object, he continued, “Maybe the Front is not as unified as you believe. Maybe some of its members are extremists and do their own thing.”

  Riana’s lips parted, considering the possibility. Then she shook her head with a ragged exhale. “We’re never going to figure it out until we know why I’m suddenly a target. None of it makes any sense.”

  Mikel finished with her scratches and went to return the medical supplies and bring her a fresh cup of coffee. As she took a sip, she was relieved that this one wasn’t so sweet.

  “So let’s think,” Mikel said, sitting down on the couch beside her. “What about you is unique?”

  “Nothing. That’s what makes no sense. There’s nothing special about me.”

  “You’re a Reader. They’re getting less common.”

  “Yes, but there are other Readers. I’m not even close to the only one left.”

  “Are you better than the others?”

  Riana tried to be honest. “Yes. Better than a lot of the others. But I’m not the best in the world. Jenson was better than me.” That thought hurt so much she tried not to dwell on it. Then something occurred to her. “I guess maybe... I mean, I know the Old Language. That’s pretty rare. My grandfather taught it to me.”

  “How many others know the Old Language?” Mikel was all business now—thinking through her dilemma with impressive clarity and composure.

  “Less than twenty-five, I’d guess, in the Union, although it’s hard to get an accurate count. The Union is so large now. And not everyone wants to admit they have such a skill.” She shifted her eyes to gaze at the pastoral scene in the oil panting across the room. “Jenson could read it. Now I’m the only one in the Reading Office in Newtown who knows it.”

  Connor had been able to read the Old Language too—before he’d dropped off the planet.

  “But it still makes no sense,” she went on, her voice louder with her growing frustration. “I would have been happy to translate something from the Old Language if they’d wanted me to. It was my job. I wouldn’t have even questioned it. There’s no reason for all these elaborate maneuverings to get to me.”

  “Yeah, it’s got to be more than that. You must know something that they want or need.”

  Riana flopped back against the couch cushion in disgust. “But I don’t know what it is.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, and Riana slanted her eyes back to Mikel. His fair hair gleamed, even in the dull light of the apartment. She’d never seen anyone as handsome as he was—it was almost unreal.

  “Sorry to drop all this on you,” she murmured. “You were just a nice guy, getting my bag back from the mugger. Now I’ve dragged you into this. Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Mikel shrugged and gave her a half-smile. “I’m glad I was able to help. And I’d like to keep helping, if you let me.”

  She wasn’t sure why, but all of her instincts told her she could trust him. She was usually good at spotting fakes, and she’d swear Mikel genuinely meant what he said.

  She didn’t know why such an extraordinary man would be interested in helping her, but she wasn’t about to turn him down.

  She liked him. The more she got to know him, the better she liked him.

  “All helping me is likely to do is get you in trouble,” she warned.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time.” His gaze was speaking, and Riana reddened slightly in response.

  Then she was suddenly slammed with unbearable guilt. Jenson was dead—shot full of holes in an attempt
to keep her safe. And Jannie, her dear, innocent sister, was being held captive somewhere. Who knew how she was being treated? Who knew what would happen to her?

  And it was all Riana’s fault.

  Riana—who’d just been almost flirting with an attractive man.

  Covering her face with her hands, she curled her body into a ball, shaking a little as she tried to control her emotions. She couldn’t cry anymore, but she felt like she was sobbing anyway.

  Mikel let out a long breath and pulled her against his side, keeping just one arm around her instead of hugging her close as he had before.

  The weight of his arm was warm, heavy, complete, and she huddled into him instinctively.

  He didn’t say anything—a decision she infinitely appreciated—and after a few minutes she was able to ask, “Do you think she’s dead?”

  He didn’t need to ask her who “she” was. “I don’t know, Riana. I wouldn’t think so. But I don’t know for sure.”

  The honesty in his words was more supportive than soothing lies would have been. She sniffed and let him stroke her hair, which she’d taken out of the knot but hadn’t had the energy to braid.

  Slowly she started to feel comforted, soothed despite herself.

  Something in his touch was healing. Something in his presence was strength.

  Riana needed it now.

  She didn’t have anything else.

  ***

  Connor wasn’t able to bury Jenson’s body.

  The Union had taken possession of it as part of the investigation, and eventually it would be passed on to Jenson’s closest known relative. Since Connor had gone underground, that would be Aunt Lilly, a maiden aunt who knew nothing of her nephews’ political leanings and would have been scandalized at the thought.

  There probably wouldn’t be much of a funeral, and Connor wouldn’t be able to attend it anyway.

  He also wasn’t allowed to attend the memorial service for Jenson the following day, organized by the Office of Readers.

  The closest he would come to attending a funeral for his cousin was at Tava’s that evening—as several friends and members of the Front gathered to grieve and discuss options.

  He’d spent all afternoon putting out feelers for Riana, but so far he’d had no success. One of his informants claimed to have seen a woman who fit her description running down the sidewalk on the street where she lived, but he hadn’t followed her and so he didn’t know where she’d gone from there.

  Connor had investigated the possibility of Riana’s having a boyfriend, but no one had any information on a man she might have spent time with. So that lead had gone nowhere.

  He just didn’t think she had the resources to disappear completely, and he was starting to fear that she was hurt and holed up somewhere without any help.

  They needed to find her. She had become too important to too many parties to let slip between the cracks.

  He needed to find her. She’d always been important to him.

  “Connor?”

  He jumped at the soft voice behind him. He’d gone into the kitchen alone so he wouldn’t have to be surrounded by concerned friends. They all kept darting anxious looks at him and asking him if he was all right.

  When he turned around, he saw Tava. She’d carried some used dishes in. “Hi,” he said, his voice hoarser than he’d expected. “Just tell me if I’m in your way.”

  After she set the dishes down, she just stood in the middle of the floor and looked at him. He was starting to get self-conscious when she said, “It’s not going to do any good to pretend it didn’t happen.”

  “I know that.” A tremor of defensiveness ran up his spine, but he forced himself not to snap out a rude retort. “I’m not pretending it didn’t happen. There’s a lot to do now, though, and I can’t let everything else slide.”

  Tava didn’t look convinced, but thankfully she didn’t press it. “Donn just arrived. I think he has some news about Riana.”

  Connor grasped onto this new straw of hope and distraction with a rush of relief. “Bring him in here, will you? We should be careful about how much information we share. After what happened to Marina.”

  He was surprised by how much it hurt to think about Marina. She had betrayed them, after all. But the woman had been with them from the beginning and had always offered loyal service. She’d lost two of her sons already, and he could only imagine what she’d be willing to do to keep the last one safe.

  She’d paid the price for her decision—brutally.

  Who knew what price she would have paid had she not betrayed them?

  She’d been a good woman—torn in ways that were horribly unfair.

  But Jenson might be alive now had it not been for her.

  At the thought, Connor shut down his mind instinctively.

  He just couldn’t go on thinking about this. Not now. Not in these circumstances.

  People were counting on him.

  Tava brought Donn into the kitchen discreetly. Donn was a big man in his fifties. He’d been a low-level administrator with the Union all his life. Six years ago he’d been forced to participate in a certain project—experimental research that ended up hurting dozens of people—and he’d silently rebelled against Union values and priorities. He’d sought out the Front shortly after it organized as a way to channel his rebellion. He wasn’t high enough in the Union hierarchy to tap them into the core, but he consistently provided them with good information, and Connor had always liked him.

  His face was flushed, and he was perspiring slightly. He was out of shape, and Connor assumed he’d hurried over here with his news. “You said in your communication to look into anything concerning Riana Cole,” Donn began, a little breathless. “I think I might have found something.”

  “Good. What is it?” Connor took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt, mostly for something to do with his hands.

  “I’m working in payroll now—they transferred me a few months ago, did you know that?”

  Connor grunted noncommittally and tried not to shake the man in impatience.

  “Anyway, I don’t have access to classified information, but I figured I might as well check the expenditures for the last weeks. And I saw something.” He paused—probably just to catch his breath.

  Connor made himself put his glasses back on very carefully, so he wouldn’t act out in frustration. “What did you see?”

  “Just a couple of days ago, there was a payout. It was a line item in the Soul-Breather category, so it was vague. They never put details in those expenses. I don’t know which Soul-Breather was assigned, but it was a lot of money so it must have been one of the top ones. And, of course, they gave no details about the assignment except the target was a woman in the Office of Readers. So I thought...” He trailed off, shrugging and making an expansive gesture with his hands.

  “A Soul-Breather? They assigned a Breather to Riana?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but that would be my guess—unless you think another female Reader would warrant that kind of attention.”

  “It has to be her,” Tava said, taking a step forward. “If they used one of the most experienced Breathers, it would have to be for an important job. They don’t come cheap. That settles it then. They’d never spend that kind of money and then turn around and try to kill her. We’re definitely dealing with two different parties.”

  “At least two,” Connor murmured, thinking as quickly as he could. “Would they spend that kind of money and still kidnap her sister? Maybe there are three different groups.”

  He closed his eyes and pictured Riana—clever, pretty, and efficient but always staying out of other people’s way. Could she really be that important to so many people?

  “My word,” he breathed. “What’s going on?”

  The lines of their mission had always been clear—the black-and-white distinction between their ideals and Union values. But nothing about what was happening here was clear.

  “Oh no!” Tava gaspe
d, causing his eyes to fly open in alarm. “I should have realized—Oh no!”

  “What?” Tired of being patient, Connor reached out and squeezed her arm. “What’s wrong?”

  “I thought I’d caught a wisp of another Breather.” Tava’s dark eyes were wide and scared. “Last night. I was helping her sleep, so I opened a connection to relieve some of her worst panic. I thought I noticed a trace of something—it’s hard to explain. But it indicated the presence of another Breather.”

  Connor fingers tightened on her arm. “Why didn’t you mention this before?”

  “I didn’t think about it.” Tava’s voice grew a little shrill and she shook her arm, trying to free herself from his grip.