Chapter 13
Wraith pulled herself towards consciousness, but it was fighting her every step of the way.
Like drowning in toffee. Or that muck on Taurus Prime.
She forced her eyes open, blinked.
A face was next to her, much too close.
She shoved out instinctively. The face vanished followed by a thump as someone hit the floor.
“Ugh, you know I hate it when you do that, Zane.”
His head rose back above the bed, grinning.
“Just making sure it’s really you, Ash.”
She turned her head slowly and looked around the unfamiliar room. Simple four-cot sleeper. But they weren’t on a transport or a ship.
“Where are we? And what the hell happened? I haven’t felt like this since Geist challenged those Marines to a drinking contest back on Tethys.”
His laugh boomed out, just the way she remembered it.
But there was something wrong with his face. He looked too thin.
Claws scraped at her memory as he lay down next to her, nudging her to scoot up to give him room.
Void. Flames. Explosion.
It was like pulling apart fog, she just couldn’t grasp it. She reached out and grabbed Zane’s hand to ground herself. It was rough. Rougher than she remembered. And somehow fragile.
Something was wrong.
Sonic blast. Dripping knife.
Helios. Knife to his throat—
She shoved Shade off the bed again. “You asshole. You gave me Silk, didn’t you?”
“Ouch.”
Wraith pushed to a seated position, “Serves you right. At least I know you didn’t kill him.”
“Careful, babe. We worked on your ribs as much as we could, but they’re not fully knit yet.”
He sat on the cot opposite her, studied her.
“And how do you know that he’s still alive? Maybe I slit his throat with that pretty, pretty knife of his and left him in mountains.”
She was still fighting the fog, but there was something not quite right about him. She just couldn’t figure out what.
She raised her hands to her face. Smooth. Scarred in strange places. It was—
“Damn it, Zane, how much did you give me?”
He shifted, lighting fast, and slid onto the cot next to her. Slipping gently under her arm and leaning his head on her shoulder.
“Just enough to cuddle.”
She thought about pushing off the bed again. Considered a couple of other wildly inappropriate options.
Zane had always been cheerfully undiscriminating, and the Silk was definitely reminding her how touch starved she was.
He turned his head to nibble her ear, and she gave into the sensation for all of a second before pushing him away.
Hard.
“Not a good idea, babe,” she said.
“You sure about that? Also, ow. Again.”
No, she wasn’t sure. But later? Later she would regret it.
Probably.
“Yeah, I’m sure. No, Zane.”
Shade’s smile was sad. “Your call.”
They had been staring at each other for a while. Wraith couldn’t say how long. But the fog in her mind was clearing, memories sharpening.
Unfortunately, that also made her more aware of Silk’s other side effects.
The lowered inhibitions. Impulsiveness. The desperate need to feel.
She needed to get out of this room, or she was going jump Shade despite herself.
And while it would be fun. A lot of fun. Her mental faculties were back online enough to know that whoever the person in front of her was, he wasn’t the Zane she remembered.
And she sure as hell wasn’t the same Ash.
The room tilted sideways when she stood. Shade reached out to steady her, studied her for a moment, then slid an arm around her waist.
The warmth was exquisite, but none of the teasing from earlier remained.
At least one thing seemed to remain true about Shade. No meant no.
“Isn’t it more traditional to keep prisoners… in the cell?” Wraith asked Shade.
They stood in front of the ArmorGlass door of what Shade had assured her was Helios’ current abode.
It was empty.
There was a hole in the back wall that tunneled into the darkness.
Shade was looking amused.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” he told her with a grin.
They still had arms around each other.
She didn’t need the support. But the contact dulled the Silk’s sharpest edges, so she let it linger.
Also, she’d missed him so fucking much.
“You gave him his knife back, didn’t you? In a cell with Plascrete walls. I think you were expecting exactly that.”
He smiled at her, the old Zane smile, and it made her heart ache.
“It’s more fun this way.”
“Well, here’s hoping he doesn’t go too far.”
“Why?” Zane seemed genuinely puzzled.
“Because I’m Tethered to him, you idiot! Why do you think I’m working with SID after they caged me for half a decade? Because I fucking want to?!”
She was speaking too loudly, giving away too much.
Fucking Silk.
But Shade, and it was definitely Shade now, was looking at her with enough cold fury that she stepped back half a pace. Dropping her arm.
“He’s what?”
His growled question didn’t seem to require an answer as he spun away from her and stepped towards the cell.
No, stepped into the cell. Then sped to the hole and disappeared from sight.
How?
She touched the solid ArmorGlass. Still whole. No door. No access panel. But Shade had stepped through like mist. She’d seen it. Hadn’t she?
They may not be wearing visible armor, but the cultists were definitely patrolling.
Ninety-second intervals. At least four different pairs.
Kael stood silent in the shadows beside a half-fallen wall.
This had been a military compound once. Now it was a dangerous and derelict ruin. He’d emerged in a drain and surfaced a few hundred meters from his cell.
He had no doubt Shade had meant for him to escape when he’d returned the blade. It wouldn’t have cut through plasteel or the ArmorGlass, but with enough effort and motivation?
Well, cutting through two full feet of plascrete may have left him with an aching arm, but cut through it he had.
He was probably being hunted. If not now, then soon.
One side of his lip curled up. He didn’t feel like playing prey.
It was still night. Perdition had massive axial tilt and a slow seasonal shift. Night would be significantly longer than the day.
With the temperature dropping and the stars still sharpening above, he figured he had at least six more hours. Maybe eight. Just enough time to create some chaos in the dark.
His night-vision optics were working perfectly despite the blow to the temple he’d only realized had occurred when he’d run a hand over the spot and found dried blood and pain.
The question was, did he take the more efficient route and kill the cultists? Or the more difficult, stealth route?
The first risked discovery and reinforcements, but could also delay being found and reduce the number of people he’d eventually have to fight.
The second would take longer, be much more difficult, and he’d have to find Wraith before Shade found him.
His aunt would have reminded him that War is Sacrifice.
His SID trainer would tell him to take out the threat.
Brandt would probably tell him to leave Wraith and escape, then come back with a battalion of Marines.
Of course, then Wraith would be dead, and he didn’t think that Shade would be as accommodating an asset.
He didn’t want Wraith dead.
He didn’t want to kill the cultists if he didn’t have to, either. He didn’t know enough. He couldn’t justify it to himself, even if it was justifiable to everyone else.
He stilled his breathing and his heart rate, merging his consciousness with the shadows, and dashed silently across the broken path to the next building, vaulting over a broken wall into an empty room.
Waited. Heard nothing but the fading footsteps of the guards.
He’d do it the hard way.
For now.