Trickskin

by Amelia R. Moore

  The ride was lengthy, and he could tell they’d left the city because stopping became infrequent. No matter. He’d never lacked patience, and the wait would be worth it. Eventually, the car turned and began to slow. They came to a halt, and he listened to the car door open and close. A knock on the roof came next, her signal that they were at their destination. As discussed, he was to remain here until she came to retrieve him. Presumably, she’d return with men to apprehend him.

  From there, they hoped he would be brought to the Archangel rather than the Archangel coming to them. Loken had a tracker in his boot, courtesy of Amanda, for that very reason. If and when he was brought to the Archangel’s hideout, he was to leave the tracker behind for Amanda’s organization and then escape. He’d assured her that he could escape, and although she’d looked skeptical, she’d taken him at his word. Escape would be laughably easy, and then he would meet up with her at a designated location. From there, they would discuss the plan for eliminating the Archangel. Technically, Amanda had insisted he be apprehended, but Loken had dismissed that with a patronizing laugh.

  All in all, this was the most fun he’d had in awhile, utilizing his skills as they were meant to be used. Lying and scheming and executing those that deserved it.

  It was familiar, and familiarity in a foreign world was a rare treat.

  Voices approached, and he took a moment to get into character. When the trunk opened, he glared defiantly up at the men who now stood in view, careful to let a sliver of fear show. Let them feel powerful. They’ll make mistakes if they think they have the upper hand. He looked helpless, he knew. Bound and bedraggled. It would be easy to lure them into a false sense of security.

  “Yeah. That looks like him,” one of the men said.

  They seized him roughly, and he grunted, feigning pain as he was hauled from the trunk and practically dragged towards what appeared to be a rather ordinary building in the middle of nowhere.

  His gaze flickered to Amanda, as if noticing her for the first time, and he bared his teeth.

  One of the men punched him in the gut. It was a pitiful attack, but he doubled over as if it had hurt. He let his knees give out for a few steps, and one of the men took advantage of his position to fit a black bag over his head. As if eyesight alone granted perception.

  Fools.

  Eventually, once inside, he was forced to his knees. Frustratingly, the black bag remained.

  “So. This is the man that caused Rossi so much trouble,” a new voice said. “Good work.”

  “He’s resourceful,” Amanda said. “He almost got away from me, so I suggest we deliver him sooner rather than later.”

  Someone scoffed.

  “My reputation is on the line. Maybe you don’t take yours seriously, but mine is all I have. I’m not going to be known as the one that let Locke escape. So call and arrange for the transfer. Now.”

  Silence and then, “Take him to a cell.”

  The man clearly wanted to talk to Amanda alone, and Loken could do nothing to contest it. He had no way of knowing if this man was taking Amanda’s advice seriously, so he decided to add some validity to her claim that he was wily. When a hand grabbed his shoulder, he grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted, snapping it with a move that looked more skilled than forceful. The handcuffs were hardly a hindrance to the movement, and Loken had to wonder why humans thought they were an effective tool.

  The man howled in pain, but rather than take out the second man—it would be so easy, Loken mused maliciously—he purposely took a hit and fell to the floor. Blows rained down on him, and he cried out in feigned pain once more. When they stopped, he stayed down, playing the subdued prisoner.

  “For fuck’s sake, Bruno. Get him into a cell. The boss is gonna want to do that himself.” Hands hauled Loken up, but as he was being dragged away, he heard the man say, “Hey. Tell the boss Storino found Locke.”

  It was hard not to feel satisfaction.

  Loken was thrown to the floor, and locked in a room with a click. As soon as he was certain he was alone, he ripped the bag off of his head and studied his surroundings. Apart from a decrepit bed, the room was bare. It clearly wasn’t meant to hold a prisoner for long, so he had to assume they intended to transfer him to the Archangel soon. The plan was working, but he had to wonder what Amanda Storino had done to ensure her place among these lowlifes. He was hardly a pillar of morality, so he wouldn’t judge, but he found the mystery alluring.

  An hour may have passed before they returned. Loken wasn’t sure, and he didn’t dwell. He focused on playing his part, glaring as he edged away from the men that reached for him. Taking care to act wounded, he was once more dragged to his feet, and once the bag was secured over his head, he was marched through the complex once more.

  “I hope you enjoy the Archangel’s hospitality, filth.”

  “Jealous, are we?” Loken couldn’t help but taunt. Being locked in that room had been dreadfully boring. “I hear he’s a difficult man to get an audience with. Don’t worry,” he crooned mockingly. “Perhaps one day you’ll be important enough. If you ever get promoted from the role of bumbling idiot.”

  The grip on his arm tightened. “Think you’re funny, do you? You killed my brother, so the Archangel may allow me retribution.”

  “My, my, that’s a lot of syllables…”

  The man growled. “Maybe I’ll ask for your tongue.”

  Pretending to misunderstand, Loken said flippantly, “Well, I suppose an unwilling bedmate is the best you can hope for.”

  A hand wrapped around his throat coupled with a snarl of rage.

  The click of boots approached them, and Amanda’s brisk voice snapped, “Enough, Arnaldo.”

  As soon as he was released, Loken smiled in the man’s direction and straightened his collar. “See?” he said helpfully. “This is why you’re the enforcer, and she’s the brains. You can’t even keep from killing a high-value prisoner. Such a lack of foresight certainly won’t help you advance.”

  “Gag him,” Amanda ordered.

  Loken mentally scowled but outwardly continued to smirk, as if entirely unbothered. Arnaldo took great pleasure in following that command, making the gag uncomfortably tight. With that done, the black bag was replaced, and he was led to a car. Instead of being tossed in the trunk, he was shoved into a seat.

  “You move, I shoot,” a new voice said, sounding pleased with the idea. “Please move.”

  Loken would have been happy to bait the man, but the gag kept him from that entertainment. So he settled in to wait. The plan was going laughably well, and that made him suspicious. There was always the chance—a very high chance, Loken mused, based on what he’d seen so far—that their enemies truly were as incompetent as they seemed. He’d remain on guard nevertheless.

  This second car ride was infinitely duller than the first. If he wasn’t gagged, he could at least entertain himself by irritating his guard. It was an effort to appear properly subdued when he was so incredibly bored, but he managed. He’d been questing for nearly two hundred years, and quests were always intermittent with periods of travel, planning, and waiting.

  As prepared as he was to wait, he was elated when the car finally came to a stop. He had no idea where he was. They’d traveled a good distance, and he wasn’t well-versed in the geography of the land surrounding the city.

  When the car door opened, the guard beside him barked, “Out.”

  Considering he was presumably exactly where he wanted to be, Loken complied and made no effort to pull away as he was guided up a rocky path. Apart from the sound of shuffling feet, it was quiet. He’d grown accustomed to the sounds of traffic that filled human cities, but the lack of noise reminded him of home.

  (Not your home.)

  He listened as a door was opened, and they entered a building. His escorts were frustratingly silent, and with the gag he wasn’t able to engage them. They walked him down a rather lengthy flight of stairs, and when they reached the bottom, they tugged the bag off
of his face. Rather than study the men guiding him, he took in his surroundings.

  It looked like a dungeon and was lit like one as well. A hallway of cells lay ahead of him, and most of the rooms had at least one occupant inside. Women, children and the occasional man. What the Archangel’s organization wanted with them wasn't clear, but it also wasn't his problem.

  In passing, Loken met the fearful eyes of a little boy and refused to acknowledge the spark of outrage in his chest.

  When they reached the cell at the end of the hall, the heftier of the two escorts pulled out a key and open it. Loken was shoved inside, and the door was slammed shut. The taller of the two men smirked at him before the pair departed the way they’d come.

  Loken stepped forward, craning his head to peer after them through the bars and finding they’d stopped halfway down the hall. After taunting a woman with disgusting promises, they left, laughing all the while. Repulsive as the men were, he’d fulfilled his purpose here. He’d return to slaughter them all after he upheld his bargain with Amanda. Not because he cared, of course. Because he wanted this organization to burn. Purely for self-interest and the protection of his Earthen guides.

  Snapping the handcuffs with a tug, he removed his gag and pocketed both. Then, he carefully extracted the tracker from his boot and searched for a place to hide it. A small crack in the wall served as an excellent spot, and once he was certain it couldn’t be seen, he turned his attention to the door. Placing a hand over the lock’s location, he called on his magic. He’d learned to overcome locks when he was a boy. It was one of the few spells he’d impressed his brother—no, Sanjay with.

  He had no brother.

  No family.

  No home.

  Anguish threatened to overwhelm him, but he managed to hold himself together. The mission gave him something to focus on. It took only seconds to open the door, and he left it partially ajar. He had no intention of walking out of the complex on foot, but he needed to give the impression that he had.

  Satisfied with his work, he was about to teleport away when he remembered the captives. He had no way of knowing when, if ever, Amanda’s organization would return to free them. He didn’t even know if her organization was real. What was real were these men, women, and children. He wasn’t yet callous enough to abandon children to such a fate, so he walked to the closest cell and unlocked it with his maedir.

  The two little girls inside backed up in fear—eyes wide and faces dirty—so he knelt on one knee.

  “My name is Lyall. I’ve come to get you out of this place.” Loken held out his hand, palm upturned. He needed touch to teleport another creature, and he couldn’t risk any abrupt movements that might startle them into alerting the men upstairs.

  Finally, one of the girls stepped forward, blue eyes wide and posture hesitant. As soon as she did, her sister did too. Loken teleported them near the coordinates he and Amanda had arranged to meet at. She would be surprised by this impromptu turn of events, but he didn’t care. After telling the girls to wait, he teleported back for the next prisoner.

  A thin young man with matted hair that hardly reacted as Loken touched his arm and took him to safety. Overall, the captives were mostly women and children, and with a little coaxing, he managed to evacuate the prisoners one by one.

  As much as he wanted to slip his blades into the men responsible for this suffering, he teleported to the designated meeting site and snuck up on Amanda. The coordinates she’d given him turned out to be a forest. Late as it was, the pale moon was the only source of light, but he had near-darkvision, enabling him to see the twitch she gave at his abrupt appearance.

  He grinned deviously, amused at having startled her. “Well, that was thrilling,” he said, overly cheerful. “Do we get to kill them now?”

  “Is that your solution to everything?” she asked, brows raised.

  Loken’s eyes widened with mock-innocence. “I’m certain I have no idea what you mean. Are you implying I’ve committed a crime of some sort?”

  Amanda stared at him, but Loken was certain he saw a hint of amusement in her gaze. “What took you so long? Did you make contact with the Archangel?”

  “Nothing so exciting. I was merely freeing all of their prisoners. You may now thank me.”

  To his displeasure, she didn’t seem impressed. “You’re not much for plans are you?”

  In truth, Loken loved weaving intricate plans and seeing where they led. He always berated his not-brother for being incapable of making plans more sophisticated than ‘attack the enemy.’ This reckless streak was newfound and more worthy of Sanjay than Loken, but he only continued to smirk at Amanda as if unperturbed.

  “You’re sure you weren’t followed?”

  “Of course,” he scoffed. “I’m no novice.”

  “Right. Then who’s that?” She jerked her head.

  Impossible.

  Loken turned in the direction she’d indicated, reaching for his daggers and wondering how someone had tracked them.

  He felt the string in his neck before he registered the hiss of the gun.

  When he turned to give Amanda an incredulous look, giving a short laugh in utter shock, she shot him with a second dart. Fatigue and warmth washed through him, and he crashed to his knees. “Impressive,” he hissed through clenched teeth, wondering if it was worth the risk to try to teleport.

  “Glad I didn’t disappoint,” she said sweetly. Then she raised the gun and shot a third dart.

  Loken growled but could do nothing as his body collapsed, making the choice for him.

  “We weren’t sure how to calibrate the strength of the tranquilizer,” Amanda said, kneeling to place two fingers to his neck. Checking his pulse, he groggily realized. “But I think we managed.”

  He clung to consciousness like the man on the edge of a cliff, afraid that if he let go he’d plunge to death.

  (Isn't that what you wanted? Let go.)

  Amanda was speaking, but he was unable to discern the meaning of her words. Men appeared, carrying him to a black van with care. He tried to snarl, but he wasn’t sure if the sound escaped his throat. How dare they treat a foreign dignitary this way, his inner voice seethed.

  Occasionally he became aware of Amanda’s presence in the van, but focus was hard to maintain. He battled the drugs coursing through his system with every fiber of his being, but his periods of consciousness became less and less frequent.

  Then, there was only darkness.

  Chapter 2

  He jerked awake and immediately found he was restrained. His wrists and ankles were tied to a bed of some sort, and there was a metal strap across his forehead, making it impossible for him to turn his head. That left him with the very uninteresting view of the ceiling. Based on what he could see, the room he was in resembled the healing room he’d woken up in on his first day on Earth. It even had the same beeping machine that Loken now knew was a contraption to monitor the heart. Well then, if they were so concerned with the state of his heart, he had to assume they didn’t desire his death.

  Not yet.

  Testing his bonds, he calculated that he could break them with effort, but he didn’t risk revealing that. He had to know what he was up against. Had the so-called Amanda sold him out to the Archangel after all? Oh, Loken hoped so. He’d love a chance to kill him.

  Irrational panic suddenly gripped his heart with icy fingers, and he struggled to get a look at his hands. Relief flooded him when he saw his fingers were still pale peach, but his heart continued to pound—announced by the heart monitor. He took a deep breath, trying to calm it before it alerted his captors that he was awake.

  “Lyall Locke?”

  Loken startled as a man stepped into view but quickly smiled, concealing his irritation at being surprised. Judging by the man’s appearance, he wasn’t a healer, though his suit was nothing special. Short kept hair and a clean shaven face made him look as if he was about to offer Loken his legal services like in those irritating lawyer commercials. His smil
e was seemingly genuine, but Loken knew that the best lies were often told without words.

  “Agent Spencer Callum,” the man continued, introducing himself. “I’m here to ask you a few questions, but before I do, I should ask—you’re not going to make me leave by convincing me I’m in need of a cruise, are you?”

  Understanding lit Loken’s features, and he poured maliciousness into his grin. “Oh, how delightful. Those were your agents?” He might be strapped down to the bed, but he fully intended to conduct this meeting as if they were sitting across the table from one another. As if he had everything perfectly under control.

  “Their families missed them,” Callum said.

  “Are you going to try to appeal to my humanity by telling me I’ve caused a great many people a lot of trouble?” Oh, how ironic would that be? Searching for the humanity in a monster from another world.

  “Would that work?”

  Loken only smiled with false cheer, pointedly not answering. “I’m feeling a little off, but drugging someone will do that. If you could please get to the point?”

  “Are you having any lingering side effects?”

  Answering posed little risk. They already knew their sedatives worked, but Loken wasn’t feeling particularly cooperative. In fact… “Actually, I feel quite unwell,” he lied, closing his eyes as if battling a wave of discomfort. If he could convince them their drugs were too strong, perhaps next time they would underestimate him.

  If Loken didn’t kill them all before then.

  “I apologize for any discomfort. We’ve had your condition monitored closely. There was a mishap in the beginning, but we’ve managed to adjust the dose.”

  Loken only narrowly managed to reel in his rage by imagining driving a dagger into Callum’s ribs. How dare they? “Oh, no hard feelings,” Loken said, sarcasm like venom. “I hope my kidnapping and subsequent near-death hasn’t caused you undue stress.”