by Minton, Toby
"One of Savior's last attempts," Gideon replied to what was in no way a question. "She is unique."
Mr. Intensity studied Nikki from head to foot, and took his sweet time doing it. It wasn't a Coop leer, the kind that made you want to roll your eyes or clock him one, and it wasn't one of Corso's eye-caresses, the kind that made you check to make sure your pants were still on. Intensity's look was the worst of both—the kind that made you want to shower from the inside out.
"A precious gift, Halfbreed," he said at last. "With this one we would have no more need of this." He gestured up and around, either indicating the hallway or the club as a whole. Nikki guessed the club.
"She leaves with me," Gideon said, his voice stronger than usual, his tone of command as unmistakable as it was unexpected. "The taste you've had was the gift." He took Nikki's elbow in his human hand, drawing her closer.
Mr. Intensity's eyes darkened, if that was possible. "A much less valuable gift."
"Enough for answers," Gideon replied. "We came to you for information, Daemon. Nothing more."
Mr. Intensity considered this in silence. Nikki considered it as well, but thanks to the adrenaline and compounding battle readiness, she didn't achieve the same stoicism. She gave Gideon a glare and jerked her arm from his grip.
A smile slid across Mr. Intensity's lips. "The gift disagrees."
The command was even stronger in Gideon's voice this time. "Our agreement stands. We did not come here to initiate a conflict." The stress on "initiate" was subtle, so subtle Nikki wasn't sure she'd heard it. Then he glanced at her, and she didn't have to work hard to read the look in his eyes. He seemed to be telling her they weren't going to start a fight, but if one got going on its own, Nikki had the go-ahead to break all kinds of ass. At least, that's how she interpreted it. Michael didn't agree. His sudden urge to shake his head and rub his eyes was strong enough to make her hands twitch.
"Yeah," Nikki said, turning to Mr. Intensity. "We just want information. As long as you're giving it, you can do all the tasting you want. Just keep your distance. I'm a lady."
She could feel both pride and surprise welling up from Michael. She liked the way it felt when he was proud of her, but it also ticked her off a little. She didn't want to be one of those girls who needed constant approval. She also didn't like that he was surprised she was handling this well, and that turned ticked off into full-blown pissed off, which, of course, wiped away his surprise.
"Ask your question," Mr. Intensity hissed. The flat-eyed stare he leveled at Gideon was spoiled when he swayed and took a half step to keep his balance.
Maybe she could be helpful after all. Unless Nikki had totally lost her eye for inebriation, Mr. Intensity was only a few strong shots shy of whizzing on a cop and professing undying love to a bag of chips. Even Nikki could talk drunk people into stuff. Maybe Gideon's vision mojo wasn't all smoke and technobabble after all, when it wasn't focused on hurting the people she loved.
Gideon seemed to notice the sway too. He took his time before he said anything, long enough to cast a slow glance around at the other gypos. Nikki followed his lead and saw they all looked a little tanked. She felt like a club noob for not noticing before, but she could have sworn they were all clear-eyed and stagger-free a minute ago.
"I'm looking for another of Savior's creations," Gideon said. "Something new—and old."
The gypos looked like they knew where Gideon was going with this, which was funny considering the screwy way he'd phrased his not-a-question. Nikki could barely tell what he was after from his description, even though she knew what he was after.
"I need to know if you felt them pass through your territory," Gideon asked, eyeing Mr. Intensity like he already knew the answer.
Mr. Intensity stared back like he had no intention of giving it. "Say what you mean, Halfbreed. Riddles don't amuse us." He shifted his gaze to Nikki. "We prefer other entertainment," he said with a leer worthy of Coop this time.
He's trying to get a rise out of you, Michael said. He sounded uneasy but his feelings were muted, tightly controlled.
"Yep," Nikki replied aloud, giving Intensity a wink like she was right there with him. He wasn't amused.
"Are you holding one of them here?" Gideon asked with a tone that demanded an answer, a tone that made Intensity meet his gaze. Nikki didn't know where this new Gideon had come from. Somewhere between the shuttle ride and this back-hall mugging, he'd set aside Mr. Broody McPouts and morphed into Mr. Look-at-Me-When-I'm-Talking-to-You. His new confidence was both much more appealing, and scary as hell. She loved it.
"Are we holding one of what here, Halfbreed?" The look in Mr. Intensity's eyes said he knew exactly what kind of what Gideon meant.
"One of these," Gideon said, pulling back his hood. He tugged the glove off his alien hand and flexed his black claws in front of Intensity's face. "Creatures like this, like the one that made us what we are. Do you have one of them here?"
"No," Intensity breathed, his eyes giving away the lie.
Gideon stepped closer, his dull red eye fixed on Intensity. "Do not lie to me. You know what I can do, Daemon." He shared his sobering red glare with the others, which seemed to work. None of them looked the least bit drunk anymore. "You know what I see is truth." His stare returned to Intensity and the gypo took a step back whether he realized it or not. "I saw a creature like this bound in your lair. I saw you feeding on its rage. Take me to it."
Nikki might have pissed herself had that stare and that tone teamed up on her so soon after her stint in the vault. She expected no less from Mr. Intensity. A whimper or two wouldn't have surprised her. His pleased expression did. Unless she was reading him wrong, he thought the tables had just turned in his favor. The little smile that ghosted his lips said he had Gideon right where he wanted him.
"Very well," Mr. Intensity, Daemon, said at last. He turned and headed down the hall and Gideon followed. Nikki fell in behind them, suppressing another urge to shiver as she passed the two gypos who stepped back against the walls.
She could feel them fall in behind to follow her, but Nikki wouldn't let herself look back. If she'd had her powers, she would have shared arch looks and threats all around to try to goad them into a ruckus, but she didn't. All she had at the moment was a false front, the promise of an ass-whipping she couldn't deliver.
Good thing they weren't here to "initiate a conflict."
At the end of the hall, Daemon unlocked a stout wooden door and led the way into a slightly brighter room. As Gideon stepped inside behind him, his attention shifted to something Nikki couldn't see.
She followed them into a wide but mostly empty storage cellar, then followed their gazes to the far wall on the left and the half-naked man strapped to it spread-eagle by thick leather manacles. He was no creature. He was very human, and he'd been tortured to the point of collapse.
The sudden tightness in Nikki's chest was all she needed to know there was, in fact, going to be a conflict and she was, without a doubt, going to initiate it.
* * *
The man on the wall had been through a nightmare. That much was obvious from the scars crisscrossing his naked arms and chest, some freshly healed, some nearly as old as he was, which was closer to Gram old than Elias old. His long gray hair and thick gray beard said as much.
He was massive though, with none of the sagginess a man his age should have. He had muscle stacked on top of corded muscle in ridges and sharp ripples Nikki had never seen in person on a man in his prime, much less a man well past it. There was nothing pretty or sculpted about his powerful frame, none of the smooth, rounded planes Mos worked so hard to maintain. The hanging man's body was a collection of rough boulders held together with clay that had been cracked and patched over and over and left outside for a few decades to fade.
He'd been through hell, just like Nikki had been. The difference was he was still in it. He was strung up in that strength-sapping, dignity-stripping position, just like Nikki had been. And if nobody s
tepped up to help him, he was probably going to die, just like Nikki had, only there'd be no Savior to bring him back to the world of the tortured and the living.
She wouldn't let that happen. She couldn't. When she'd been in Savior's hands, she'd made promises to herself. In the still darkness of her cell between torture sessions, she'd promised that if she ever found a teenage girl locked up in a torture tank, separated from her twin brother, cut off from her powers, she'd do whatever it took to free the poor thing. She'd been specific just in case she did survive. She hadn't wanted to trap herself into a life of rescuing every moron in binders being arrested for whatever. Seeing this old man hanging helplessly, huge as he was, flipped a switch Nikki knew she couldn't turn back off. She was going to free this man, or die trying.
I'm right behind you, Nikki, Michael said.
He was. The determination welling inside her was flawless, not a single crack of disagreement or disapproval coming through from Michael. He wanted to free this man just as much as she did, and for the same reason.
"Your sight deceived you, Halfbreed," Daemon said, his tone oozing satisfaction. "No beasts here. Only a man."
"So it would seem," Gideon replied evenly.
Hanging Man lifted his head at Gideon's voice, revealing sharp green eyes at once younger and older than his weathered body. His eyes shifted to Nikki, like he had felt her studying him. Nikki expected to see only defeat and despair in there, to see what her own eyes must have looked like when she was at her lowest in Savior's torture tank. She saw neither. She also didn't see the rheumy weariness to match the deep wrinkles cut into his broad face. What she saw in his bright green eyes was vigor and vim by the crate-load. He had the eyes of a man in his twenties, or maybe a lion in his twenties—a hungry lion. The strength of his gaze on Nikki made her regret wasting "Mr. Intensity" on Daemon. Hanging Man's intensity was different though. It was the quiet, waiting kind. The kind that made him look like he could pounce in any direction at any second, even though he looked perfectly at ease. Too at ease. His eyes narrowed slightly and his mouth turned down like Nikki was far more interesting than the fact that he was chained to a wall half naked.
Gideon was quiet for a minute before he said, "Our agreement—"
"We broke nothing, Halfbreed," Daemon cut in harshly but with a dark smile touching his lips. "This one came to us." He stabbed a finger toward the old man on the wall. "It chose this. As you said, our agreement stands.
"We have no beast here," Daemon went on after a pause for a long breath and tipsy blink. "We have nothing you seek."
Another long pause stretched out. Hanging Man lowered his head again, and Gideon continued to stare at him. Nikki could tell "Halfbreed" knew the man. She could see it in Gideon's human eye, which she hoped meant she'd have more than just Michael at her back when this turned ugly, assuming they couldn't talk Daemon and his buddies into cutting Hanging Man loose without a fight.
She struggled to come up with a plan of attack for the convincing. But with her blood up and her adrenaline pumping, the only attack plans she could think of were literally attack plans. Why did Gideon think she was the only one who could do this? What could she possibly say that would save the day, especially when she wanted to say it with her fists?
"Very well," Gideon said, looking away from Hanging Man at last. He turned his back on the man and nodded almost solemnly to Daemon before walking toward the door.
Nikki didn't follow, mainly because confusion had her rooted to the spot. Gideon stopped at the door and looked back at her. "Nikki, we're leaving."
Her mouth worked soundlessly for a second as she tried to read his guarded expression. The way he was looking at her made her doubt his words. Her gut was telling her this was her moment. This was where she was supposed to step in, but she wasn't sure. Maybe Gideon meant exactly what he was saying, maybe not. Why couldn't he give her a sign? Why hadn't they come up with a sign for him to give? Why hadn't he prepped her at all? And why the hell was she thinking instead of acting?
"No," she said, finally finding her voice. "We're not."
All eyes shifted her way.
"Not without him." She flung out an arm to point at Hanging Man but kept her eyes on Gideon, then shifted her gaze to Daemon. She wanted to say something smart, something persuasive, something that would touch Daemon's heart and make him bow to her will, no more talking needed. She wanted to do what Gideon brought her here to do, what Michael probably could have done with ease, but her adrenaline-swamped brain had nothing, and Michael was being unusually quiet considering she could feel him like he really was right behind her. So she settled for what she knew.
"Cut him loose."
Daemon's eyes widened in amusement, but it was Gideon who spoke. "We don't interfere with the Daemon, Nikki, and they don't interfere with us. That's our agreement. If he came here willingly, there's nothing we can do. We're leaving."
"No, we're not."
A deep, growling laugh sounded from the far side of the room. Nikki looked over to see Hanging Man watching her. "Fiery little slip," he said, almost too softly to hear. Nobody else seemed to notice anyway. Daemon had rounded on Gideon, and his cronies seemed torn between watching the confrontation and Nikki.
"Do you wish to break the agreement, Halfbreed?" Daemon purred.
"I will break nothing, Daemon," Gideon said, apparently unfazed by the tense postures and hungry looks of the dark men surrounding him. "Neither will my charge. Nikki," he met her eyes and the commanding tone came back for an encore. "Come. Now."
He couldn't have chosen a worse set of words. His charge? Come? Was he trying to piss her off? He had to know the effect his words would have on her—the effect they'd already had. Nikki had half a mind to unload her growing anger on him instead of the gypos, but the other half of her mind was trying to work out why his eyes and words didn't agree. In fact, she was almost positive he was trying to communicate the opposite of what he was saying. Either her people-reading skills were totally shot or Gideon was playing some subtle game here and had failed to clue her in. Why couldn't he make up his blackened mind and say what he really wanted?
Frustration, not to mention Michael's sudden stubborn silence, weakened the doors holding back Nikki's battle lust, which was whipping up like a wildfire. One of Daemon's boys stepped up behind her, pressing himself against her and inhaling sharply, which only fanned the flames higher.
Gideon's mouth twitched and his eyes narrowed as he stared back at Nikki. "You will remember your place, child. You will obey. Just as you always have."
As that last straw drifted down onto her self control in the breathless silence, Nikki gave up trying to figure out what Gideon wanted. It no longer mattered. This fight was happening whether he wanted it or not.
"Cut him loose," she said, her voice catching thanks to her pounding heart. "Or I will."
Daemon turned his head to fix her with an amused stare, but he saw something in her eyes that wiped away the smile. She saw the change come over him. She saw him realize that she wasn't going to walk away, no matter what Gideon said.
Get ready, Michael said.
I'm always ready, she thought back.
Take the one behind us first.
Nikki nodded and nearly smiled. This was almost how things should be—forgetting everything they did to annoy each other, standing together as one, calling targets before making the first move. This song was closer to Nikki's heart than anything even a legendary club like Avalon could play.
"You don't stand a chance against our kind, girl," Daemon hissed, but the slur in his words spoiled the effect, as did his suddenly unfocused stare. How he was getting sloshed again out of the blue was a mystery, but one Nikki wouldn't hesitate to use to her advantage.
"Tell that to his nose."
Confusion clouded Daemon's face until Nikki's head snapped back into the face of the gypo snuffling around her ear. He fell away with a grunt, and immediately the other goon lunged for her.
Nage! Micha
el thought.
That was not like old times. His thought made Nikki hesitate and grapple with the halfway familiar term instead of the slender man darting toward her. He caught her arm before she could pull away, then slapped her hard enough to cloud her vision with angry fireflies.
Throat, Michael snapped as the gypo came back into focus.
Again she hesitated. This shout was in English at least, but was he warning her of an attack or telling her what to do? The gypo hesitated too, looking a little dazed himself, like that slap had taken more out of him than it had her. Lucky.
Nikki kicked out three times—knee, crotch, gut—and he let go of her arm and fell back. They were ugly kicks and nowhere near as powerful as she would have liked, but they did the job. They gave her a little space.
Daemon barked a command Nikki couldn't make out, maybe in another language. It sounded like he said "dare kazoo." Whatever it was, it clearly didn't mean stop. The goons each acknowledged the order with a look, stood, and started toward her again, this time looking not the least bit tipsy. The eyes fixed on her were clear and sharp.
Nikki backed away, trying to keep both of them in sight as they spread out as far as the room allowed and advanced on her. She shot a quick glance at Gideon, but he wasn't budging. He just stood there watching with that blasted unreadable expression. Daemon was talking to him again, but in a tone too low for Nikki to make out as she backed farther into the room toward Hanging Man. All she caught was, "life is forfeit." He probably didn't mean his own.
Dammit, I need my power! Nikki thought at Michael with as much accusation as her conscience could handle.
What you need is a weapon, he responded much more calmly than she felt. Easy for him to be calm, it was her body about to get pummeled. He was right though. Without her powers her best blows were too easy to shrug off, and these guys looked to be expert shruggers. One had a focused, hungry stare despite the blood streaming from his broken nose. The other had no hint of a limp despite being kicked square in the boy bits. She needed something to even the odds.
