Burn (TimeBend Book 2)
Page 30
“What?”
Lowe stared at the floor, trying to get his anger under control. “Last summer I met Stahl. Supposedly. He promoted me. Assigned me to work with Stelle. But, if Mala can’t melt into the dead … that means Klaren’s alive. If Klaren’s alive, I don’t think I got an assignment from the President. If Klaren’s alive, then Stelle’s just as mad as the man she’s working for.”
“Which means?”
“That a group of insane militants is trying to take Mala. Through the border. Into the radiation. We have to find her. And get her out. Now.”
“But Tier—”
“He’s working with them.” Lowe took a deep breath. “He didn’t nix our mission. He wants her to stay.”
“He’s still head of the Ancients—”
“I know.” Lowe took a deep breath. The words sat in his stomach, heaving and churning before he spit them out. “I’m going rogue.” Once they were out, his chest felt lighter. Calmer. As if he’d made the right choice. He stared at Verrukter, waiting to see if he’d have to fight his old friend.
Slowly, Verrukter nodded. “Well, okay then.”
Lowe wasn’t sure where Mala went. But he knew where to go to find out. He and Verrukter pounded down the stairs. They met surprisingly little resistance. No crowd. No guards.
“Where is everybody?” Verrukter voiced Lowe’s thoughts.
Lowe didn’t have time to answer before he skidded to a halt in the doorway of the kitchen: gossip central. It looked like all the Erlenders in the compound were crowded into the cramped space, shouting over each other. Some still messed with amulets. Many were whispering among themselves. Lowe glanced at Verrukter. There were too many people. Too many guards. Too great a chance of getting caught.
They backed into the hall.
“If everyone’s here, there must be some kinda formal announcement going on.”
“The tax presentation!” Lowe bit off a curse.
“Where can we go to see it?”
Lowe flitted through the maps in his mind. Troe held court in a massive ballroom. There was no easy way to access it from the first floor. But there was an old projector room on the second floor, back when lights and videos had to be serviced regularly. He sped off, Verrukter on his heels.
The door was ajar. Lowe and Verrukter stumbled into a black pit of a room. Broken lights and gobos littered the space. A sound mixing board had been tossed in a corner.
Verrukter smashed the jaw of the sole Erlender guarding the tiny space. Lowe dove at the man’s legs and together they wrestled the guard into submission, stuffing old rags in the man’s mouth and using light cords to tie him up. Verrukter hit the guy over the temple with a Fresnel light to knock him out.
Lowe turned his face to the glass window that overlooked the throne room.
The grand old room had once been used for corporate events, lavish weddings, conferences; things that didn’t exist anymore. Now the far wall was covered in a mosaic of glittering airplanes. Lowe’s eyes drifted down to Troe, who leaned forward on his throne, staring at two soldiers in front of him.
One soldier raised a glass to toast King Troe. And to Lowe’s horror, that soldier melted into Mala.
Every Erlender weapon turned to point at her.
Lowe’s heart leapt into his throat. But then Troe held up a hand. The guns lowered. The King extended an arm to Mala and formally led her from the room.
Beside him, Verrukter gave a snort. “She couldn’t make it easy to get her out of here, could she?” He clapped Lowe on the back.
Lowe let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “She thinks she’s following orders. But I’m done with that. We’re going to break her out of here, and it’s gonna be the most Deadwater-damned spectacular breakout anyone’s ever seen.”
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Acknowledgments
To the big man, Rob, Kyra and Sarah: you have my unending gratitude.
A huge thank-you to my beta readers: Janie, Khalia, Tiffany, Aubry, and everyone else. I am also eternally grateful to my parents for their support and my children for their inspiration.
About the Author
I’m at Stay at Home Bookkeeper for my husband and Stay at Home Mom to two wonderfully mischievous children under age 5. I write after bedtime, so I suppose I should thank the creators of Melatonin for the ability to write this book. Just kidding. Sorta.
I love the arts: painting, theatre, and reading. I have an undergrad degree in Playwriting and a grad degree in Theatre History. Socrates rocks my socks.
I’m an INTJ. If you’ve never taken a Meyers Briggs personality test, I recommend them.
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Ann@AnnDenton.com
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