“I need you,” Shane said to Hallie. Burke bristled. Then Shane looked at him. “And you, too. Something’s happened to Emil.”
II.
MORE TO DO THAN FEEL
Hallie dropped down beside Emil, damp uniform cling to her back. Emil’s pale, slack countenance drove all thoughts of Burke’s kissing her, of the unexpected weakness his mouth generated in her knees, straight from her mind. Despite her concern for the man lying at odd angles on the floor, she was grateful for the distraction.
Reaching for his pulse, she felt the strong, steady beat. His eyelids fluttered open as she touched him. Without moving his head, his gaze searched the vicinity in disoriented fashion, finally lighting upon her.
“How long?” he asked thickly.
Confused by the question, Hallie glanced up at Skelly and his disturbing expression. Receiving no help there, she returned her attention to Emil.
“We just left the common room a short time ago, so if you’re asking how long you’ve been unconscious, I would say not long.”
Emil closed his eyes again, making a noise of recognition in response. Beads of perspiration dotted his brow. Burke stood above him on the opposite side, all focus on Emil.
“What happened?”
“They used to call it the falling sickness, oh so many years ago,” Emil murmured hoarsely. His eyes remained shut.
“That they did,” Burke agree, tipping his head and narrowing his eyes at Emil’s prone form.
“So you can tell Skelly I’m not going to die,” Emil added.
Skelly moved, making a noise in his throat. “What makes you think I care?”
“I know you,” said Emil, struggling to sit up. Hallie pushed her arm behind his back, leaning her weight into the effort to help him. The smell of sweat permeated his clothes along with another odor she couldn’t identify.
“You taking your meds?” Burke asked, crouching down to assist.
Emil directed a long, tired stare at him. “Haven’t needed them in years.”
“Something happen to cause a problem?”
Emil’s gaze slid towards Skelly over Hallie’s shoulder, then away. “No.”
“No?” Burke’s doubt was as evident as Hallie’s own.
“No,” Emil repeated, daring to be contradicted, beginning to sound like his old self. Hallie looked at Burke, really looked at him for the first time since their hasty exit from the gym. He met her eyes and held them. She knew what he was asking her as if he’d spoken aloud: if she regretted putting her trust in him. She nodded at him in reassurance. His shoulders relaxed before he turned to help Emil stand.
Hallie moved out of the way. Skelly’s hand closed around her arm.
“Careful where you tread,” he said quietly.
Hallie glanced down. His caution was unnecessary. She was nowhere near stepping on him. Easing her arm away, she asked where Calypso had gone. Skelly shrugged.
“Shane,” said Burke, “give me a hand. Let’s get him to the infirmary.”
“No,” Emil said. “Just my cell. I’ll sleep it off and be fine.”
The three men made cumbersome progress into the corridor. Hallie heard Emil protesting the aid and Burke’s flat dismissal. Once they were out of earshot, she closed her eyes to steady herself, listening to the thrum of low-level machinery, of air ducts and ventilation fans, of refrigeration units and the pitched signal nearly out of human hearing of the energy transmission through the lamps. She listened harder, for something beyond, for the susurration of sand in the dry wind, the whisking motion of the dragonreds—narrow-bodied lizards with crimson mouths and underbellies—as they rushed for momentary cover from the white heat. Listened for the call of birds, plumage bright, gathered in the low-lying shrubbery planted close around the domed dwellings of the desert people. Listened for the breathing of a child in untroubled sleep, the tiny sound of joy made upon awakening in a sun-warmed room of mellow golden color.
Her throat tightened with grief and longing and unshed tears. She would not weep again, though. She had had enough of that.
Inhaling, she turned on her heel and cut power to the lights, then strode to the panels, passing her palm over the control. The covering dissipated in widening ripples to reveal the perpetual twilight beyond, greener than the mossy depths of the deepest well. It was no wonder she had feared they were lodged underwater.
Was there any real hope to Burke’s fragmentary schemes? If the opportunity arose for escape, she wouldn’t be left behind. She wouldn’t leave the others behind either, if they wanted to be part of it. She couldn’t. Not to this life.
But, it wasn’t for her to say, was it? It was Burke’s decision. His plan, his choice, his risk.
Hallie studied the dark, unfathomable green, chiding herself for a fool. Why couldn’t she just bide her time? In time, wouldn’t the charges against her be revealed as false, freeing her from this place? She couldn’t count on that, and the uncertainty would be her undoing long before then. The uncertainty, and the unknown fate of Burke’s daughter.
Something fluttered against the vitrine, a creature large yet filmy coming to rest against the slick outer surface of the panel. Cautiously, not wanting to startle it, Hallie pushed her head forward to examine the nearly invisible outline of the beast.
Wing-like appendages to either side lifted in a wave of motion from front to back in unison like the swirl of a violet-blue hem. She thought the body might be the little thickening in the center, shimmering with faint iridescence. At one end of the body a further glint of tiny multiple eyes or teeth or scales—or none of those things—reflected the small illumination from inside, a creature ethereal and beautiful in its strangeness.
And then another thing arrived, larger still, more than half the length of her own body, with a glow under its belly that escalated as it approached the panel until it was searing bright, striking the other creature in an explosive flash, enveloping the smaller creature in wings as black as pitch. Hallie threw up her arms with a small cry, shielding her eyes as she leapt back. Both creatures plummeted from the window.
Nearly blinded, Hallie stumbled forward to peer down into the gloom. On the opposite side of the panel, a residue sparked with contained charge, perhaps the life blood of the smaller creature, or something secreted by the larger one to amplify the expulsion of light and energy from its body. Beyond, the two creatures plummeted in their death struggle, flashes of radiance spiraling through the darkness revealing not only the vast depth of the creatures plunge, but illuminating their passage through the twilight. The pulsing display was too swift for her to recognize anything, revealing only flashes of color, gray and brown and myriad shades of green.
She stepped away as the spinning white spark went out. Burke was beside her.
“Did you see that?” she asked.
He nodded, a strain showing around his eyes. Behind him Skelly stood paralyzed, face white, mouth spread in a wide grimace, eyes shadowed all around and set deep into his skull with the stamp of physical shock. She had seen a man look like that once. He had been about to die.
* * *
Burke marked the rhythm of his pulse, loud and steady and strong. His feet hit the compensation track in a matching cycle, loping stride certain. His thoughts traveled back over the day with the sense of detachment granted him by strenuous exercise, tallying the whereabouts and condition of Sector 43’s occupants.
Emil was fine, sleeping off his seizure. Shane, after a bout of pretty gruesome hysterics, had confined himself to his cell before the cybernetics had the opportunity to respond. He had no idea what Calypso was doing in her cell. Hallie had gone to check on her.
As for Hallie…
Detachment abandoned him. His stride faltered, nearly tumbling him onto his posterior on the fast-moving track. He nimbly regained his footing and carried on.
He couldn’t permit the luxury of his emotions now. He really did mean to find a way to escape this prison if he could and needed a level head to do it. With the att
ack of the creature beyond the thick window, the danger to any one of them outside Zebulon’s walls was obvious. Maybe he had done Hallie a disservice, sharing his vaguely formed plans with her. Maybe he had done himself a disservice, also. Despite his promise to her, it was going to be far too risky to take anyone with him. And with every passing moment he was growing more aware of what it would do to him to leave Hallie behind.
Recklessly he picked up his pace, heart surging blood through his veins. Perspiration soaked his workout suit, fabric clinging to his chest, his abdomen, between his shoulder blades. His hair dripped with it.
Even if he convinced Hallie he should go alone for her safety, there was no guarantee he could return for her. Hell, he could be dead within twenty steps of the facility. Then again, so could she. If he died, he would be of no use to anyone. Not Lese, not Hallie, not himself. And if Hallie died—that did not bear contemplation.
He had to leave her here.
Promise me.
Concentration lost, he stumbled off the compensation track, doubled over beside it, hands on knees as the track shuddered to a halt. He breathed hard, eyes closed as he remembered the feel of his mouth on hers, sealing the promise made.
He had to stop thinking about both, the promise and the kiss. He could do nothing about either one.
Stretching his heated limbs, Burke moved on to the weight bar. An interesting piece of equipment, with no true weights attached, only an opposing force of energy. He always kept himself in top physical shape out of necessity. That necessity had not changed. Out there, he had no idea what he might be facing. Physical conditioning could be the least of his needs.
On his back he began the act of building up to peak, starting slow, minimal force, accelerating swiftly to his maximum. The muscles in his arms started to burn. Good. If he pushed himself hard enough he might just sleep tonight.
He knew what would help him sleep a hell of a lot better. He couldn’t think about that either.
Eyes closed, respiration heavy, Burke heard someone enter the exercise room. A light tread moved toward the compensation track. He thought of Hallie and the grace of her stride. A hot stirring of his blood followed the memory, quickly cooled when he realized the footsteps did not pause at the track and that they were not hers. Too substantial for Calypso, too slight for Emil—whom he suspected never ventured into the place anyway. Only one person it could be.
Burke swore softly, abandoning the equipment.
Now he could hear nothing. He was tempted to call out Shane’s name, but held his tongue, waiting. His muscles cooled, perspiration drying on his skin. He’d tried to believe the man’s actions that morning, his accusations, were an aberration. But his gut instincts were not often wrong. Skelly was dangerous. Even without a suspect mental state, the ignoble force of lust drove men to conduct themselves in inexcusable ways. He had seen that in Skelly’s eyes as well.
In rapid succession, the illuminated light-bars went out. Burke swore again, and not so quietly. Taking a quick step backward, he allowed the bank of lockers to guard his rear. He’d been in worse situations and wasn’t particularly worried, although he hadn’t been looking for a fight. Controlling his respiration, he listened in the darkness for Shane’s whereabouts.
As silence stretched, he did begin to worry. Why hadn’t he seen Hallie since shortly after Emil’s episode earlier in the day? Although the places in which to do so were limited, the possibilities for harming someone were limitless. But no, he told himself. Shane had no desire to harm Hallie—unless Shane’s desire was psychotic enough to overrule any decent inclination.
He was letting his concern for Hallie steal away his much-needed calm as he waited for an attack out of the blackness, nerves stretching thin. She was fine, probably spending time with Calypso still.
Burke heard a movement to his right, a slight shuffling across the floor. He turned in that direction. His eyes had grown used to the dark, but he knew Shane’s were much more attuned due to the planet of his birth and that he had no doubt been watching Burke for some time now without hindrance. Burke shifted his weight, preparing for defense. A brilliant flare pierced the darkness with blinding intensity.
A coward’s move, damn him! Burke raised his arms to ward off a blow he couldn’t see. The spiked pressure in the side of his neck was sudden and unexpected, clumsy, and very nearly painless.
III.
CAPABLE OF EVERY WICKEDNESS
Hallie paused in her weaving, flattening the fine strands of her own hair in her fingers. She set the bracelet down on the edge of the desk and lifted her gaze to the blank wall. She’d only been able to sit still for a limited time to listen to Calypso’s singing, lovely as it was. Although the island woman had been trying to please her, Hallie had at last pleaded exhaustion as an excuse to return to her own cell. A short time later she heard Calypso’s door close and she had then shut her own, an action which had permitted isolation to settle in. Hallie had hoped utilizing her hands in a repetitive task might distract her, but it had only given her more time to think.
Propping her chin on her hand, she wondered what Burke was doing to keep his own thoughts in check. His concern for his daughter was not likely to give him any rest.
Stretching out a finger, she smoothed a loose strand of hair along the desk, the frosty blue shimmering as it turned. This had been the crest color of the Ser Irese for hundreds of seasons. With no materials to make the dye necessary to maintain it, the family mark in her hair would grow out while she was here, just as she had told Skelly the first day. The idea of losing the visible reference to a timeless tradition weighed heavy on her heart.
Still, it was only dye. It didn’t change who she was or what she was. And it was a minuscule consideration compared to the revelation of Arad’s far-reaching ruthlessness.
Moving the bracelet into the open drawer, Hallie then shirked out of her uniform, slipping her sleeping gown over her head. She had unbound her hair earlier to sever more strands and now took a brush to it, pulling the bristles through in long, even strokes.
Although she hadn’t fully explored this sector of the facility in the brief period since her arrival, she assumed Burke had. The others might not have done so, being too afraid of what lay beyond. Frankly, it frightened her as well, but if the opportunity arose she would not let fear act as a deterrent.
Yet what if no possibility of escape existed? Burke’s plans might merely be an exercise to keep him from losing his mind. At the point when she was forced to admit the futility of any plan, no matter how vague, what would she do then? Nothing about the situation would have changed, except hope.
Her emotional state in that event would be beyond reckoning. Although it seemed inevitable, she refused to think the impossibility of any scheme as an absolute. After all, if Burke thought—
She caught herself before she gave voice, even mentally, to anything Burke might think. How had she come to put her faith in this man? Granted, he had acted under duress, but not without recognition of the probable expectations of the man who was seeking to employ him in his less than savory occupation.
She trusted him because she’d recognized truth in his gray eyes. She had not imagined that. Nor had she imagined the way she felt in his arms, his mouth hard on her own as he sealed the vow she had extracted from him.
With a shaking hand, she lowered her brush to the desk. Someone knocked on the heavy metal door. Following the path of her ruminations, she thought of Burke and nearly called out her name without question, but prudence took over.
“Who is it?” she asked, drawing close to the tri-sected door.
“Skelly. I’d like to talk.”
“Is Emil all right?” she asked.
“Yes, he’s fine! He’s sleeping. Why won’t you open the door?” He sounded agitated, perhaps excited about something.
“Unless you’ve come to apologize, Skelly, I can’t see the point.”
“I have, Hallie. I want to tell you how sorry I am for the things I said.”<
br />
Hallie pushed her arms into the sleeves of her robe in aggravation, yanking her unbound hair from the neckline as she called her name to open the door. Skelly dropped his arm from the top of the doorframe and sauntered into the cell, looking pleased with himself.
Pulling her garment closed, Hallie crossed her arms. “It would have been a reasonable expectation to find you looking a bit more contrite.”
He shrugged. “You’re right, Hallie.” But instead of apology, he offered her a smile. “And I am contrite. What I said this morning was directed at Conlan, not you. I made assumptions. Even so, he’s taken advantage of your situation. Plainly, he’s done that. What took place in the hygienic was not at your instigation. You did not look a willing participant.”
Didn’t I? Her eyes narrowed. Skelly appeared both unsteady and edgy.
Striding to her berth, he lowered his hips onto the edge of it. “Aren’t you going to close the door?”
“No. Why would I?”
“So we can talk.”
“We’re doing that now, with the door open. That’s working for me.”
He bowed his head in acknowledgment before suddenly extending his arm to her brush and plucking a hair from the bristles. Stretching the strand between the thumb and forefinger of each hand, he held it to the light. “Pretty. Golden. Shining. Like you.” He snapped the single strand with a quick tug. “And fragile. Burke doesn’t recognize that about you. I do.”
He allowed the severed pieces to flutter to the floor. Hallie wondered where Burke might be at the moment. She wasn’t afraid, precisely, but she noted an aspect in Skelly’s manner she found most unsettling.
“I’m afraid he’ll hurt you, Hallie. He could, you know.”
Hallie pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth. One thing she hadn’t given enough consideration was the effects on a man of long confinement without outlet. She glanced at her hanging uniform and away. She wished she had taken a little longer before changing out of it. Or that she simply had not opened the door.
Emerald Twilight: Bundled Edition Page 8
