Urgand had pulled up a holographic display in the air beside the chair and was working through options on it. “Just going to scan you, Shay. Nothing invasive, nothing painful.” His lips moved as though he were muttering to himself as he perused the display in front of him. “How’s your wrist feel? Any tenderness or pain?”
Shay lifted her right hand off her belly and turned her arm to look at the inside of her wrist. There was a small red mark there, evidence of the new ID chip she’d received yesterday. Getting a body scan for that had been interesting. Arcanthus had been startlingly professional during the process earlier that week, which had involved Shay stripping down to her birthday suit and stepping onto a glowing platform.
Despite Arc averting all three of his eyes, Drakkal had been more grumbly than usual—which said a lot considering how grumbly he tended to be. There was no question about his trust in Arcanthus, but when it came to Shay, instinct was in control of Drakkal. He was quite…beastly. And Shay wasn’t embarrassed to admit that turned her on, especially once they’d returned to their room and he turned that beastly nature on her.
She twirled her hand around. “No pain, doc.”
“Good. Boss has never had an issue getting those in, but it never hurts to be sure.” Urgand highlighted something on the holographic menu.
The chair hummed faintly beneath her. A moment later, several curved metal objects floated up freely from the chair’s base to hover over Shay. Blue circles sparked to life along the undersides of the objects, bathing her in a soft glow. Her hand tightened around Drak’s.
Two more screens appeared in the air beside the first. Urgand turned his attention to them. “Give me a minute to get my bearings. Things are in weird places in your kind.”
“I’m sure things are all in the right places,” Shay said drolly.
“I haven’t had any problems,” Drakkal offered.
Urgand glanced to Drakkal and then Shay before returning his attention to his displays. “Yeah, anyway…the youngling.”
His fingers manipulated an image on one of the screens, turning and resizing it; from her angle, Shay couldn’t really make out what it was. The light from the displays reflected in Urgand’s dark eyes, making them seem aglow.
“How do you want to do this?” he asked, glancing at her again. “You want to see?”
Trepidation and amazement filled her. See her baby? She’d actually, for the first time, get to see her baby? She settled her hand on the side of her belly. Countless times, she’d felt the baby moving and shifting inside her; that alone had been astonishing. There was a life growing inside her, a tiny little person. But even knowing how advanced medical technology had become—even back on Earth—she’d somehow never realized it was possible to see her child before it was born.
“Yes,” she replied, shifting her eyes from Urgand to the holographic screen.
“Just a second.” He muttered to himself again as he returned to the initial control menu. “This is Volturian tech. They always make their shit so damned complicated.”
“Should we call Razi?” Drakkal asked. “He’s an expert on all things Volturian, isn’t he?”
Urgand smirked. “An expert if you want to know the appropriate gifts to bring to a Volturian wedding, maybe. Here it is.” He moved a hand to one of the other screens and made a motion like he was grabbing something with his fingers.
A three-dimensional hologram formed in the air near his hand. When he cupped his hand around it and moved his arm, the hologram moved with it. He positioned the hologram over the floating scanners, leaving it to hover over Shay’s belly.
She knew what she was looking at instantly, but it took several seconds for it to truly settle in. “That…that’s my…”
“Your cub,” Drakkal said, awe in his voice as he leaned closer.
The image was so clear, so crisp, showing more detail than Shay had imagined possible. Her eyes roamed over her baby’s features, from its closed eyes to its little nose and mouth, from the rounded curve of its ear to the dark hair on its head. It shifted, kicking, and Shay felt it from inside at the same instant.
She laughed, and tears welled in her eyes. “Running out of room, aren’t you, Baby?”
“Guess it’s a terran trait to be so small and frail-looking,” Urgand said.
Frail. That one word was enough to tear Shay’s eyes away from her baby to look at Urgand. Her heart quickened, and something on the machine beeped, flashing red for an instant. “Frail?”
Oh God, what’d I do?
Drakkal growled menacingly; Shay didn’t have to look at him to know he was glaring at Urgand.
The vorgal frowned. “Calm down. I said frail-looking. Just like Shay and Samantha. As far as I can tell, this youngling is healthy. She looks perfect.”
Relief flooded Shay, and it took her a moment to register what else Urgand had said. “She? It’s a girl?” Her eyes turned back to her baby, moving along its body, and sure enough, the proof was there. “I’m having a girl?”
“You’re having a girl.” Urgand fiddled with something on one of his readouts. “Looks like you’re about thirty-two weeks along. About eight more to go.” He pressed another option, and a sound began to play—it was like someone rapidly banging a sheet of metal. “She may be tiny, but her heart is strong.”
Drakkal gave Shay’s hand another squeeze and leaned down further, nuzzling her neck. “Like her mother’s.”
Shay laughed thickly, struggling to hold back her tears. She turned her face toward Drakkal and closed her eyes, pressing her forehead to his. “A little girl. And she’s perfect.”
“Also like her mother.”
She opened her eyes and drew back to look at Drakkal. Her heart constricted at what she saw in his eyes. They were focused on the hologram of her daughter, bright with wonder and adoration but also hard with the same savage protectiveness he’d shown toward Shay. That one look was enough for her to know without a doubt that Drakkal would always be there for Shay—and, more importantly, that he would always be there for her baby.
She released his hand. The action caused him to turn his attention toward her. There was a brief question in his eyes before she grasped his face and pulled him down, pressing her mouth to his. An answering rumbled vibrated from his chest. She kissed him firmly, fiercely.
“I love you,” she rasped against his mouth, kissing him again and again.
“Kraasz ka’val, kiraia,” he growled between kisses, “I love you, too.”
Urgand grunted and muttered a curse. “This is new equipment. Clean up your damned mess when you’re done.”
Neither Drakkal nor Shay paid any attention as the vorgal tapped the control, dismissing the screens and sending the scanners back to the base of the chair, and exited the room.
Their lips caressed and nipped, their tongues flicked and stroked. Shay’s fingers delved into Drakkal’s mane, and she drew him closer; she needed more of him. Drakkal settled his big hand—his flesh and blood hand—over her belly. As though sensing him, Shay’s daughter stretched, reaching toward him.
Drakkal lifted his head, separating their mouths. His intense green eyes locked with hers.
“She is mine. You’re both mine, kiraia.” His hand curled protectively, though gently, around her belly as he cupped her jaw with his prosthetic hand and tilted her face up toward his. “May the ancestors hear my vow, made by my bone and my blood—I will allow nothing to harm you or your cub so long as I draw breath.” He pressed his forehead against hers, his voice gruff as he said, “You are mine to love, mine to protect, mine to keep.”
Seventeen
“Come, my boy, and sit down,” Master Foltham said, waving Nostrus over to the desk.
Nostrus closed the door and strode across the study. He sat in one of the chairs and settled his arms over the armrests.
Master Foltham leaned forward, propping his elbows on his desk. “Well, have we made progress?”
Careful to keep his expression neutral, Nostrus nod
ded. “I believe we’ve found a…suitable candidate, sir.”
“All this time and only one candidate?” Master Foltham huffed and shoved away from the table to lean back in his seat. “The cost is of no concern, Nostrus. If I need to hire a small army to have justice, I will!”
“I understand, sir.” Nostrus drew in a steadying breath. He knew he’d been overly sensitive regarding this matter, but he couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t allow another stain to cling to his father’s name, couldn’t allow his own reputation to remain tainted. “But, as you’ve said, we must go about this delicately. Your security is my foremost concern, and putting out an open contract risks drawing too much attention.”
Master Foltham’s throat skin swelled for a moment. “The best, Nostrus. This candidate had better be the absolute best available.”
“Everything we’ve been able to dig up so far, sir, points to that. This hunter’s reputation has been earned over many years of work.”
“Hmm. And yet you sound trepidatious.”
“Most bounty hunters who are willing to go after runaway slaves, sir, are barely a step above criminals,” Nostrus said carefully. “Regardless of reputation, I have difficulty bringing myself to trust their ilk.”
Nodding thoughtfully, Master Foltham settled his hands over his belly. “Perhaps. But I imagine a generous bounty is enough to curtail any thoughts of betrayal.”
Just like a high payout was supposed to keep that azhera from stealing from you in your own home?
“I can’t pretend to understand the motivations of such individuals, Master Foltham.”
“No, of course not. You’re a cultured being, young Nostrus. But if there’s one thing I know, if there’s one secret to my success, it’s the understanding that you ought to turn elsewhere when something falls outside your own areas of expertise, especially when acquiring those skills is impractical. We need animals hunted down and dragged home, so we must seek out one well versed in dealing with such creatures—someone barely removed from animals themselves.”
The rage that had been simmering within Nostrus for weeks flared a little at that; he was deemed unfit to perform this duty, but someone Master Foltham considered barely more than an animal was qualified?
Nostrus realized in that moment that he’d been gritting his teeth. He forced his jaw to relax. “Sir, I will dedicate my every moment to hunting them down. I’ll bring them back to you. I’ve scores to settle with both of them.”
“I’ll not discuss that matter with you again, Nostrus. You know my mind on it. You’ll have your revenge, rest assured, though it will not be in the terms for which you’re so desperate.” Master Foltham lifted a hand a few centimeters and waved his fingers lazily. “Now then, do you have the contact information for this bounty hunter?”
“I do, sir.”
“And have you made any inquiries regarding the arrangement of a contract?”
“A member of my team has made contact. The hunter was willing to discuss the matter further.”
Master Foltham reached forward and brought up a holographic display over his desk. With a flick of his fingers, he turned the screen to face Nostrus. “Call the hunter now. I want this set into motion.”
“Sir, it would be—”
Master Foltham slapped his hand down and shifted his considerable bulk forward to loom over his desk. “I want my terran back, Nostrus, and I’ll wait not a minute longer than necessary. It’s been what? Forty-nine days? Fifty? I have always exercised patience in all things, but the limits of my patience have been hard-pressed by this situation. Call the hunter. Now.”
Pressing his lips into a tight line, Nostrus turned his attention to the screen and accessed the secure, encrypted commlink. He entered the bounty hunter’s commlink ID and pressed connect to engage an audio-only call.
The connection opened after a few seconds.
“Yeah?” asked a raspy voice.
“An associate of mine contacted you regarding a contract,” Master Foltham said.
“You the one with a couple lost pets?”
“Indeed. From what I understand, your record is impeccable.”
Nostrus clenched his teeth and clutched at the armrests. He couldn’t ignore the persistent ache in his hand any more than he could forget the reason it was there to begin with.
“Yeah,” the bounty hunter replied.
Master Foltham leaned back again, turning his gaze toward the ceiling. “Are you interested in the work?”
“I’ll need details before I commit to anything.”
Smirking around his thick tusks, Master Foltham nodded. “Naturally. I’d prefer my pets returned to me unharmed, if possible. They are a male and female. An azhera and a terran, respectively. It’s only prudent that I mention they are both dangerous.”
“Most people are once they’re being hunted. I’ll need some more specifics.”
“The male managed to overcome my head of security and escape an extremely secure compound with the female in tow. And she has caused serious injuries to several members of my staff despite her deceptively petite size and build.”
The ache in Nostrus’s hand intensified, becoming a rapid, piercing throb. He forced himself to lean back, hoping that the few extra centimeters it put between himself and the call screen would help him keep his mouth shut. He didn’t need to dishonor himself any further than he already had.
“I should add that the female is pregnant,” Master Foltham continued. “I want her offspring returned as well—alive and unharmed, if she’s birthed it when you collect her.”
“Price?”
Master Foltham turned his head toward the screen. “I would prefer to work out that detail in per—”
“Price,” the bounty hunter repeated firmly.
Master Foltham’s lips peeled back in distaste. He preferred a manner of doing business that struck many as old-fashioned or unnecessarily prolonged, but Nostrus saw the wisdom in it—it provided further opportunity to reveal the true nature of the people with whom the master was dealing.
With a disapproving grunt, Master Foltham said, “Two hundred thousand each, but they must be alive.”
“One azhera, one breeding terran, and possibly an infant, presumably hiding out on Arthos. Adults both dangerous enough to overcome trained professionals,” the bounty hunter said flatly. “Five hundred each.”
Master Foltham’s throat flesh swelled, and his heavy brows fell low over his dark eyes. “Preposterous!”
“It’s nothing for a person like you.”
“How dare you presume anything about me after demanding such an outrageous sum? I am the one who was insulted and stolen from, the one who was attacked in my own home. Have I not paid price enough already?”
“If you owned a terran,” the bounty hunter replied in a measured tone, “you’ve paid handsomely. Which is exactly why you’re going to pay what I’m asking to have her back. A half million is nothing compared to what you spent to have her.”
Master Foltham clenched his teeth and leaned forward again; for a few moments, he looked as though he were contemplating trying to strangle the holo screen in front of him. “And how soon will you deliver?” he asked tightly.
“Have your people send me the rest of the information. Images. Names. Everything in your possession. We’ll talk timelines once I’ve been able to review it all.”
“I don’t typically deal in such vague terms,” Master Foltham grated.
“You also don’t typically deal with locating two individuals in a city of billions, or you wouldn’t have contacted me. I’ll be in touch.”
The call disconnected abruptly.
Master Foltham’s nostrils flared with several deep, heavy breaths, his throat flesh swelling and deflating with them. He didn’t look at Nostrus when he said, “That will be all for now.”
Nostrus stood, turned away, and walked toward the door. He told himself that his burgeoning sense of satisfaction at seeing Master Foltham so irritated by dealing with the bounty
hunter was both immature and inappropriate, but he couldn’t dismiss the feeling. Part of him—a part to which he would never give voice—thought it served Master Foltham right.
If this was the path they had to take to make Master Foltham see the folly of outsourcing a contract for something Nostrus would’ve gladly done by his own hand, so be it. One way or another, they’d get their hands on that azhera. One way or another, Nostrus would right his failure.
And it will all be worth it just to see the look on the azhera’s face right before he dies.
Eighteen
Drakkal drew in a deep breath through his nostrils, closed his eyes, and turned his face toward the sky. The surface air, though as fraught with clashing scents as that in Undercity, was sweet and fresh, and the light of the quasar was pleasantly warm. He hadn’t been topside in a long time—not since the day he’d driven Arcanthus and Samantha to the Ventrillian Mall over a year ago. The abundant plants and fountains on the upper city streets almost created the sense of being back in the wilds, far from the troubles of cities and civilization.
He opened his eyes and glanced at Shay, who was walking beside him, her left hand in his right. She held her other arm beneath her belly for support; it had grown noticeably larger in the month since Urgand had performed her first medical scan, and the cub had grown along with it. The time was fast approaching. She’d give birth soon enough, and his excitement and anxiousness increased with each passing hour.
He had dedicated himself to being a father for this cub, and nothing would make him waver from that. He only hoped that he would be a worthy father.
“It’s so much nicer up here,” Shay said, turning her head to look at him. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”
Drakkal shrugged, sweeping his gaze around to take in the shining buildings, well-tended gardens, and countless pedestrians in their varied clothing. “Never really had a reason to.”
“No reason to? The air up here is reason enough.” She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. “It’s so sweet I could take a spoon to it and have it for dessert.”
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