Word and Breath (Wordless Chronicles)

by Susannah Noel

  Realizing what he was doing, Connor released her immediately. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine. Connor, this could be bad. What if this man in her life is the Soul-Breather? It would explain why there are no signs of her having a boyfriend—all this would have happened in the last few days.” Tava raised her hand to her mouth, as she thought through the implications. “Some of the Breathers the Union uses are incredibly attractive—and they work by...by seducing their targets to get them to let down their guard.”

  Connor was having trouble swallowing over the knot of fear in his throat. He managed to say, “Riana is smart. She wouldn’t be bowled over by a handsome face.”

  “They couldn’t force her to do anything without damaging her, but they’re Breathers! They can be hard to resist.” Tava was almost gurgling with horror. “Oh, that poor girl. What if this Breather—”

  “Stop!” Connor spoke so sharply that both Tava and Donn jumped. But he couldn’t stand for her to continue. He couldn’t let fear overwhelm him. “We don’t know what’s happened, but we need to find her now more than ever.”

  He stretched his fingers and thumb over his forehead, trying to rub away the dull headache that had been present for most of the day. “Donn, is there any way you can get more information on this Breather?”

  “I don’t know. It would take looking into records I don’t have access to.”

  Connor raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you. But don’t be sloppy or take too many risks.” He turned to Tava, when Donn had left the kitchen. “I don’t suppose that trace you felt from Riana could give us more information.”

  She shook her head helplessly. “Sorry. It doesn’t work like that. Maybe she’ll get in touch with us. We were helping her, after all. And I’m sure she was starting to like us.” With a gulp and a twist of her lips, she added, “Particularly Jenson.”

  Connor looked away. “Which might be why she’ll stay as far away from us as possible. We can’t count on her getting in touch with us. We need to do whatever we can to find her on our own—before any of these other people do.”

  “I know.” Tava had composed herself again, although her eyes were slightly reddened from grief. “But, Connor, you need to let yourself rest a little while. You’re pushing too hard. And you haven’t let yourself even start to grieve for—”

  “I can’t. You have to see why.”

  “I see why you think you can’t. I know it’s important to find Riana, but she’s not the only one who’s important.”

  Connor swallowed hard, staring at the far wall, willing himself not to imagine Jenson—his cousin, his friend, the only real family he had left—lying limp and bloody on the ground.

  “He was your family, Connor.” There were tears in Tava’s voice now, although he couldn’t bear to turn and see them there. “If you ignore it, it will only catch up to you eventually. If you just let go for a little while—”

  “I can’t.” His words were curt, almost rude, and he turned abruptly to leave the kitchen. His throat and head and chest were so heavy he thought he might suffocate. “Let it go.”

  Jenson was gone. And Connor had loved him. But this wasn’t the time to indulge in grief.

  Maybe if he could find Riana, things would start to make more sense.

  ***

  When Riana fell asleep, Mikel gently extricated himself from her relaxed form and got up to walk into the kitchen.

  He’d had to be so careful as he was tending to her wound, careful not to open a connection, careful not to breathe in any of her feelings, memory, or spirit. He’d wanted to—remembering how distinct and intoxicating she was—but he’d resisted.

  She was vulnerable, and he wasn’t going to take advantage of that. He’d already taken advantage of her enough. He had to be careful anyway or she’d recognize who and what he was.

  He pulled out some vegetables he’d bought the day before and started to clean them off in the sink, mostly for something to do.

  He wasn’t sure why he’d lied to Largan earlier. He should have told his employer the truth—that he was with Riana. There was no good reason not to. The lie had come to his lips easily, unconsciously, and even now Mikel wasn’t sure how to explain it.

  But he wasn’t going to turn Riana over to the Union, not when they may have just tried to kill her. He didn’t think Largan was responsible for the shooting, but there were forces at work that Largan wasn’t in control of.

  Someone wanted Riana dead, and Mikel wasn’t going to let that happen.

  He’d never felt protective like this before, and he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the feeling. He’d been a loner all his life—isolated by his nature and his gifts. Money and the challenge had been enough to motivate him to do his job, and he’d never asked himself whether there could be anything else worth living or dying for.

  At times, when his defenses were down, he was swallowed by a wave of depression at the apparent emptiness of the world. He always talked himself out of it, though, impatient of anything that smacked of brooding.

  It was irrational, perhaps, that Riana could have affected him so deeply, so quickly. But he’d felt her spirit. Recognized it for what it was. And he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that it might offer him something he’d never experienced before.

  He wanted it.

  Things were complicated by the fact that his assignment compelled him to betray her. He’d play things by ear, see how things fell out after the chaos of the shooting.

  Then he’d decide what to do.

  He wasn’t going to hand Riana over to get killed. That much he knew already. And he wasn’t yet ready to just walk out of her life.

  He checked a few drawers until he found a knife. After testing the blade for sharpness, he began to chop up the carrots. There was something satisfying about concentrating on precise cuts and watching the pile of orange disks stack up on the cutting board.

  When he finished the carrots, he started on the green peppers. Then the onions and garlic.

  Riana had leaned against him so trustingly earlier, apologizing for getting him into all this trouble.

  Women were drawn to him all the time. Mikel was used to having them come on to him. But he wasn’t used to people truly trusting him.

  He’d felt the trust tangibly when he’d stroked her hair. He’d brought his hand up to the back of her neck and touched her skin very briefly, letting the connection open.

  She’d been hurting again—racked with agonized guilt over slipping into a temporary enjoyment of his company, after so many terrible things had happened. He’d recognized what she was feeling even before he’d touched her skin.

  It was perfectly natural. Guilt was always strongest in grief when you were momentarily distracted from it.

  But Mikel had felt a lowering heaviness—in his belly and in his chest—as he’d tried to comfort her. He was horribly uncomfortable with that feeling of helplessness, so he did the only thing he could to soothe her pain.

  He’d touched her, breathing in just the faintest bit of her pain so she could find some solace.

  She’d fallen asleep shortly afterwards.

  Mikel could still taste the echo of her spirit inside him. The guilt, the grief, the anxiety.

  And the trust. In him.

  Shaking his head and wishing he could shake the knowledge and resulting feelings away, he bent over to retrieve a big pan and set it on the stove. After turning the eye on, he poured out olive oil and waited for it to heat up.

  Swirling the pan to cover the bottom with oil, he made a rough sound in his throat, trying to dispel these uncomfortable thoughts.

  When he’d put his cut vegetables into the pan to sauté, he stirred them a little and then went back into the main room to check on Riana.

  She was curled up on her side on the sofa, her soft brown hair spilling forward over her shoulder and face.

  What was wrong with him? He wasn’t a fa
tuous boy who could be beguiled by a pretty face. He’d had the chance of relationships with some of the most beautiful, alluring women on the continent.

  Yet here he was—obsessing over this one and acting like an absolute fool.

  Riana stirred as he watched her, and he started to leave so his presence wouldn’t wake her up.

  It was too late, though. Her eyes opened and blinked a few times, moving instinctively to rest on him.

  Her cheeks were flushed now and she smiled as she saw him, as if her conscious brain hadn’t caught up to her responses and the sight of him there made her happy.

  He smiled back—touched despite himself—and hoped he didn’t look too much like a sap.

  “Mikel,” Riana said, her voice cracking on the word.

  He walked over to her, kneeling down on the floor beside the sofa. Without thinking, he brushed the hair back from her face, letting the smooth strands slip between his fingers.

  He was in such a fond, foolish mood that he might have even kissed her. He actually leaned down, unable to resist the appeal of her sleepy face.

  Then everything changed as she asked, her voice still thick with sleep, “Were you ever going to tell me you’re a Soul-Breather?”

  Eight

  Captain Largan found a seat at the back of the train, in a corner next to an overweight woman with shopping bags full of vegetables and French bread. He accidentally brushed against her thigh as he sat down, and she jerked away as if he’d made an unwanted advance.

  He resisted rolling his eyes and squashed himself up against the corner to leave a half-inch of space in between them.

  Even though he was late leaving work today, the train was as crowded as ever.

  As he felt the train’s jerky acceleration, he closed his eyes against the florescent lights and tried to relax as much as he could. He had an earpiece so he could listen to the radio and he also had a newspaper—although it was full of images he’d already seen. He didn’t feel like doing any of those things.

  He just wanted a little quiet, a few minutes when he didn’t have to think at all.

  Sometimes, the ride to and from work were the only hours of the day when he could find peace.

  Three years ago, Largan had given up his car. He’d loved his old truck, but it guzzled gas and contributed unnecessarily to pollution and city traffic. Public transportation in Newtown was excellent and relatively convenient. So he’d done the right thing and given the car up.

  When he heard someone across the train car raise her voice, Largan opened his eyes in curiosity.

  Nothing. Just a squabbling young couple who evidently didn’t mind if the entire world heard about their problems regarding the woman’s excessive shopping and the man’s insensitivity. Largan couldn’t remember the last time he’d argued with his wife like that. It seemed so immature and predictable he just shrugged and closed his eyes again.

  He kept thinking about Riana Cole.

  Things were not going the way he’d planned.

  He needed certain information from her, and now she’d disappeared completely. He’d already spent a lot of the Union’s money on the project, hiring Mikel and doing his own background research. Now he’d have to spend even more—and he’d already heard from the General Director that the leaders in the capital were not at all pleased with the way his office had handled the situation.

  He’d taken steps to make sure they weren’t blamed for the shooting. The last thing he wanted was for Riana Cole to die or disappear.

  But he should have gotten farther by now. He should have already learned what her grandfather had taught her so they could proceed with the next steps.

  Instead, they were scouring the neighborhoods for one lone woman who shouldn’t be so hard to find. He was being harassed by everyone from Smyde to the General Director of Union Security for not finding her fast enough.

  All he’d ever wanted was to do something meaningful, and all he got were a lot of political hassles.

  When his phone rang from his pocket, he groaned out loud, causing the woman beside him to tense up and scoot away from him as much as she could.

  Largan ignored her and pulled out the phone. After glancing at the caller ID, he flipped it open.

  He usually turned his phone off on the ride home—so he could enjoy his forty-five minutes of peace—but today wasn’t a normal day.

  And he had to talk to the Deputy General Director of Union Security.

  “Largan,” he said, hoping he wasn’t going to have to deal with yet another crisis.

  “Any news?” the man barked, without greeting or ceremony.

  “Nothing new. The search is in process. I’ll alert you as soon as we find her. And, as I told you earlier, there’s not much evidence from the scene of the shooting. Finding the culprit is going to take a little more time. What we really need is an informant.”

  “Any ideas on how we can find one?”

  “We’re working on it.” Largan let out a breath, forcing his impatience not to make its way into his tone.

  “The Union can’t be held responsible for this. We need someone to blame.”

  “We’ll have one. Just give us time to find the right one.” Largan paused, considering his next words. Then he figured he might as well risk them. “If you’re thinking about creating a scapegoat, I’d appreciate being kept in the loop.”

  “We’re considering everything at the moment.”

  Which wasn’t a real answer at all.

  The Union powers-that-be were more than capable of blaming the shooting on an entirely innocent party, just to balance out political issues and appease the populace. But they’d rather find the real guilty party. At least, Largan was pretty sure that’s what they were after now. After almost forty years of working for the Union, he was pretty good at distinguishing between real pressure and posturing.

  He was getting real pressure here.

  “I’ll keep you informed,” Largan said, hoping the other man would recognize that as a concluding remark. He really wanted to get back to his thoughtless ride home.

  “What’s going on in your city? You’re supposed to be in control of things there.”

  “I have things under control. I can’t predict everything, though. There are rogue forces at work.”

  “Rogue forces. Is that what you call them?’

  “That’s what they are.” Largan took a conscious breath to keep his tone level. “My office was not responsible for the shooting. Obviously, we have nothing to gain and everything to lose from Riana Cole’s death. I informed you of her situation two days ago.”

  “And the kidnapping of her sister? That’s another sloppy incident with no good explanation.”

  Largan made a face, but his frustration wasn’t evident in his voice. “My office was not responsible for the kidnapping of the Cole girl. There are rogue forces who must know why we’re interested in the young woman. You know as well as I do that little is truly classified.”

  The Deputy General Director had paused thoughtfully, and now he made a noise—as if he were truly thinking about these possibilities. Hopefully, he’d get distracted by them and leave Largan alone for a few minutes.

  “What are your theories? Someone else is looking for the answers we want and so they kidnapped the sister as a play to get to Cole?”

  “That would be my guess,” Largan responded. “It’s the only theory that makes any sense.”

  “And the shooting?”

  This one, Largan had been mulling over all afternoon, and he had an answer to it now. “One of the Zealots, perhaps. Or a loosely organized group of them. You know better than I do that they’re hiding under rocks throughout the Union. Perhaps they don’t want us—or anyone—to get the kinds of answers we seek.”

  “Hmm. I hadn’t thought of that—but it makes sense. I’ll run it by the General Director. There’s that group on the west coast that blew up the Western Regional Archives last year—remember?—we lost years worth of texts. Do you think it coul
d be that same group of Zealots?”

  “Who knows? Them or someone similar. There are those who don’t want anyone alive who knows how to read the Old Language. If you add to that what Riana Cole might have learned from her grandfather, she might be target number one.”

  “Find them. They must have informants in your office—if not Zealots themselves. Root them out. These kinds of extremists are as dangerous to the Union as the Underground is.”

  Largan had no arguments with that. “As I said, we’re working on it. You’ll be the first to know when we find out anything.”