He had to keep telling himself that as he picked up his phone. He didn’t know a direct number for her these days, but he was confident that he could find her. After all, what use was a mercenary if no one could reach her to hire her?
Alysia would have been the natural choice for this job. She had a history in Bruja; she knew how to speak the language of payout that piqued a mercenary’s interest. But she was in the hospital now, collateral damage of the current conflict.
He dialed, knowing there was no chance that Maya herself would pick up. He spoke to “florists” and “jewelers” and “caterers,” always leaving the same message: “Tell Maya to call Jason at SingleEarth Haven Number Four.”
Some of the numbers probably were those of legitimate businesses that had never heard of Maya. It had been six years, after all. But he was sure that some of the contact places he knew were still taking messages. She would hear.
It has been six years, he thought, but the number wasn’t much of a comfort. He had been thirteen when she had picked him up. Seventeen when she had changed him. He wasn’t sure how many years had passed after that before he met Sarik. Not many, he thought, but time spent with Maya was a haze of trying never to think. Trying to survive the day.
He left messages, grateful that he did not have to hear her voice just yet, and then returned to the residential building. He needed to rest. No, he needed Sarik. He needed her to remind him that he wasn’t the creature Maya had tried to make him.
When he reached their room, though, Sarik wasn’t there. Instead, he found a note scrawled in her handwriting on a piece of SingleEarth stationery. The pen still lay nearby.
Jason,
I’ve lied to you. I’ve hurt you. I’m doing what I can now to make amends. I need to leave. Please don’t look for me. I love you.
—Sarik
He stared at the note. Picked it up. Read it again. Saw in the black ink a telltale wavering that said her hand had been shaking while she’d written these words.
The only thing missing from the room, beyond Sarik herself, was the bag in which she stored her identification, cash, and credit cards—items she never needed at the Haven but that she kept handy for when she needed to go out into the world.
Where are you, Sarik?
He sent himself to the cubs’ enclosure, where his sudden appearance made Mark jump nearly out of his skin and exclaim, “Don’t do that!”
“Sorry. Do you know where Sarik is?”
He could already tell that the cubs were gone. Even if they had been sleeping inside, he would have been able to hear their heartbeats.
“She said she was taking the boys on a field trip,” Mark answered. “It seemed like a good idea to me.”
It would have been, if she’d been planning to come back.
If she had taken the cubs with her, she could only be going one place: back to her father, the abusive bastard who had so completely terrified and dominated her for sixteen years that even now, the merest mention of him made her freeze like a squirrel facing an oncoming car.
Please don’t look for me, her note had said.
I’m sorry, love, but that’s one request I am never going to grant.
How many Mistari tribes were there in the United States? It couldn’t be that hard to track down the one she—
Jason’s cell phone rang, and this time it was his turn to feel like a small animal staring into the bright glare of headlights.
He stepped away from Mark before he answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“It is you!” The voice on the other side was light, cheerful even. One of the first thoughts he had ever had about Maya, when she had found him homeless on the streets, was that she had a lovely voice. “When my Paulo told me I had a message from Jason, I was sure it had to be someone else. It’s such a common name. But now that I’m sure—”
He let out a yelp as she appeared in front of him, ending the call as she met his gaze with her own black one.
“I am so looking forward to hearing your explanation. How’re you doing, darling?”
Words fled.
As usual, Maya was dressed to the nines, which today meant designer jeans, a scarlet kimono-style blouse, three throwing daggers on her left wrist, and a katana in an elaborate sheath at her left hip. Though she originally hailed from Cape Verde, sometime in the last half decade she had apparently developed a taste for Japanese fashion, which meant her thick brown hair was pinned up on top of her head in a style Jason associated with high school girls fascinated with anime.
On the other hand, the adorable pink rhinestone hair-stick he could see was probably sharpened to a deadly point treated with poison.
Jason noticed three hunters creeping closer and held up a hand, indicating that they should pause. He said to Maya, “I work here now. I called you for a business meeting that you might find profitable. Are you going to be professional, or are you just here to play?”
She grinned. “You know I could take out your hunters before they could blink an eye, don’t you?”
“I don’t know that,” he replied, “and neither do you. Do you want to work or not?”
He was certain she wouldn’t risk a fight unless she was pushed to it—she was a businesswoman, after all—but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try to push his buttons. He didn’t know how long he could keep up this confident façade if she decided to test him.
Instead, she sighed. “I suppose I can see what you have to offer before I decide what I want. Let’s go somewhere comfortable and you can get me some tea. Then we’ll talk about how you killed Liam and now want to make amends.”
The words took him aback just long enough that she was able to lead the way toward the administration building. As he hurried after her, one of the hunters increased his pace to catch up.
“Is there a problem?” the hunter asked.
“Not yet,” Jason answered, “but if you’re willing to stay close, that would be good.”
Did Maya know she wouldn’t be able to simply disappear from inside any of these buildings? She might not. He wasn’t sure what kind of advantage that might give him, but it was good to know anyway.
“Mary, can you get us some green tea?” he asked as they passed the secretary’s desk. “We’ll be in conference room one.”
Maya glanced back just long enough to see which door he gestured to and to say “Good boy” in response to his choice of beverage.
Given her current fashion choices, green tea hadn’t been a deductive stretch. The only other possibility had been bubble tea, but he was pretty sure Mary didn’t keep that on hand.
Maya sat herself at the head of the conference table, leaned back to put her feet up, and then said, “So, Jason. What happened to Liam?”
“He tried to either kill or abduct a SingleEarth mediator,” Jason answered.
“Correction. He tried to abduct a third-ranked member of Frost, Onyx, and Crimson,” she replied as she fiddled absently with one of six buckles on her knee-high boot. “Said member is guilty of just about every crime written by human or witch authorities, and therefore not eligible for sanctuary in SingleEarth.”
“It isn’t about what she used to be.”
“No, it’s about who she is,” Maya retorted. “She’s a killer and a thief. Not that I’m judging, but SingleEarth does. And you’re asking all the wrong questions.”
“Then what should I be asking?”
She raised one brow and waited.
“You were hired to go after Alysia,” he said.
Maya nodded. “It was a public posting.” Public meant she had no reason to withhold the information, since it had no value.
“Who hired you?”
“That part isn’t public.”
He made a mental note and moved on.
“Do you know anything about the job that resulted in me and two others being shot here recently?”
“You were shot? Poor baby,” she replied. “I had no idea. But if I were you, I would ask one
of the two highly ranked members of Onyx who have been here in the last week. Maybe the one whose sister you murdered.”
She was volunteering information, which meant she was trying to hurt him, but he couldn’t immediately guess what she was implying. He was sure he had murdered somebody’s sister during his time with Maya, but how was he supposed to know that anyone here at Haven #4 was a survivor of one of those kills?
Alysia could be. If she had recognized him as the monster who had killed someone in her family, she might have been swift to take revenge, even if she had otherwise reformed. That would explain the timing of the attack but not why someone had hired Maya to capture Alysia.
“Wait for it,” Maya said, leaning forward with a slight smile, at the same moment that all the puzzle pieces came together in his head.
“Sarik,” he said.
Sarik, who was so terrified of her father, who had made him into some kind of godlike figure in her mind, one even SingleEarth couldn’t stand up to. Who had blanched when Jason had mentioned Kral. He had thought the reaction was because she was afraid the leader of Onyx would mention her to her father, but …
“No,” he said, standing up.
“Darling,” Maya said sweetly, “has your lover been less than honest with you?”
Sarik had told him that she had ended up in Maya’s care because she had stupidly knocked on the door looking for help because she had run away from home and become lost. She hadn’t been lost. She had been looking for Cori, the girl Maya had been hired to kidnap.
Maya stood up and came to his side. She patted his shoulder and leaned against his side to say, “Love hurts, darling. And I don’t think you have any deal worth offering me, so I’m going to head out. I’ll look you up next time I need something.”
She walked away, just in time for Mary to arrive with her tea. Mary looked bewildered that the meeting was already over. Jason followed Maya, only to make sure the hunters would let her go. No one here wanted a fight.
As soon as Maya had disappeared, Jason collapsed in one of the chairs in the reception room. He didn’t know what to do next. Where to go next.
“Jason?” Mary asked. “Is everything all right?”
He shook his head.
When Lynzi got home, he would tell her.
Tell her what, exactly?
He could tell her what she wanted to know, he decided: that SingleEarth wasn’t at risk for further attacks. After all, Alysia and Sarik—
Sahara. He knew her name as well as he knew Christian’s and Kral’s.
Alysia and Sahara were gone.
Sarik was gone.
CHAPTER 17
CHRISTIAN DRIFTED IN and out of consciousness for a while. Each time he came close to the surface, he tried to grab on to reality enough to focus, but it was hard.
Once, he heard someone say to someone else near him, “The woman they found was the cashier working at the station. She says she doesn’t remember seeing Alysia.”
Christian tried to ask a question on that topic, but the effort caused the world to slip away again.
The next time he woke, he could feel someone funneling power into him. It wasn’t Pandora, but it had to be another of his own kind.
She must have sensed his mental nearness, because she said, “If you’re awake enough to help me out, give me a sign.”
He tried, but he couldn’t focus.
Again he woke, and finally he was able to get a sense of his body. He was hurt, badly, but Lynzi had probably saved his life. He managed to ask mentally, Where’s Pandora?
She came, Lynzi replied, the same way. She said this was your “own stupid fault” and that as long as you already have a SingleEarth nursemaid, she doesn’t need to waste her time.
That sounded like her.
It also finally gave Christian the motivation he needed to focus his power, so the next time his body demanded rest, his mind went into a trance instead of to sleep. Externally, the state looked much the same, but internally, he was able to start stitching himself back together. Ruptured blood vessels closed and strengthened. Fractured bones and crushed organs regained their proper shapes and places.
All the while, Lynzi continued to slowly drip power into him so he could heal the damage, which was worse than his body had ever before sustained. He was vaguely aware when the flavor of the power changed, which meant Lynzi had probably had one of her SingleEarth underlings come in to feed her.
The power sustaining him spiked, like a shock of static electricity. Those “underlings” are responsible for saving your life, Lynzi remarked, reading his thoughts. You might want to consider that.
Right. Have they found Alysia?
Not yet, Lynzi answered. Once you’re recovered enough to actually talk, I expect you to explain everything.
Sure.
She had to know he was lying, but she let it slide.
An intrusion of fear and anger pushed him out of his trance. Pure wrath had just walked through the door.
His eyes flickered open, but it took several seconds for them to focus. And then …
He knew that mouth, those eyes, those cheekbones. The way she would pout and expect the world on a platter, and—Damn her. Did she have any idea—
Pandora would not approve, but he didn’t care. He let the fury well through him as he reached for the tiger, a hand locking around her throat and power digging into her guts so he could drag the energy from her.
Her body spasmed, but he knew that her throat would be too tight for her to scream.
He could ignore Lynzi’s shout, but he couldn’t ignore Sahara’s reaction, which was to change shape from a beautiful woman to a form of fur and muscle—a form that included sharp teeth and claws that ripped into Christian’s shoulder and chest, forcing him to let her go.
The instant he released her, she let herself fall back into human form.
They both ignored Lynzi frantically shouting their names—well, not her name, not really.
Sahara coughed once and rubbed her throat before saying, “Just like old times.”
One hand over the bleeding claw marks in his shoulder, Christian waved Lynzi back and answered, “Not just like.” He had pulled enough power out of Sahara before she forced him to stop that he was able to keep the new wounds from bleeding, but he couldn’t do more. Still, it was enough to make his point. He wasn’t the same human kid she had known six years earlier.
“Are you all right?” Sahara asked, at the same moment that he demanded, “Where’s Alysia?”
Lynzi tried to intercede, saying, “Christian, I told you—”
Sahara cut her off, asking, “She’s not here?”
She wasn’t feigning ignorance. Her skin paled and her breath hitched as the only other possibility occurred to her. If Alysia wasn’t in the hospital, then she had to be with the person who had offered the money to abduct her. Sahara’s presence here made it damn clear who that was.
“Lynzi, Christian and I have to go,” she said.
“I think we need to talk,” Lynzi replied. “And Christian shouldn’t—”
“I’ll be fine,” Christian interrupted. “Sahara, come on.”
“Absolutely not,” Lynzi objected, grabbing his arm.
Christian could feel the crackle of her power like static electricity. He knew that given his current weakened state, she could take him down in an instant.
“It’s okay, Lynzi,” Sahara said, reassuring the witch with a soft tone and a forced smile. “Christian and I have … a history. His reaction is understandable. And he’s right that I need to go with him. I can’t explain now, but I will call as soon as I can.”
Lynzi stared at Sahara, hearing every half-truth in her words, Christian was certain—especially the bit about I will call as soon as I can. Sahara had no intention of calling.
“If it’s your choice to leave, Sarik, then I won’t hold you here.”
She released Christian’s arm reluctantly, not entirely withdrawing her power until the last moment.
He stood, and Sahara came to his side. He looped an arm over her shoulders, and she wrapped one around his waist, as if six years hadn’t passed since the last time they had leaned against each other, concealing exhaustion and weakness under a veneer of companionship.
Each step hurt, but Christian trusted that he could keep his body under control long enough to find out whether Alysia was safe.
“Does Kral have Alysia?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Sahara answered, “but if she isn’t here, then I’m afraid it’s likely.”
“What are you going to do?” His instinct was to haul Sahara back to her father, trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey, but in his current state, he had to hope she didn’t plan to fight him.
“I have to face my father,” she said in a small voice.
If that was her plan, then she would come with him willingly.
“I need to make a call,” he said as they reached the reception room, where a very stern, disapproving secretary saw him and instantly started forward with a frown that made him realize he was wearing a hospital gown. Given the damage his body had sustained, he suspected his clothes were not in any shape for him to put back on.
“That’s fine,” Sahara answered. “I need to—”
Ignoring Sahara for the moment, Christian forestalled the secretary’s protest by catching her hand and shoving the thought into her head: There’s no problem here. It was about as subtle as he could be right now.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Sahara said while Christian dealt with the now utterly bewildered secretary.
He didn’t like letting her walk away, but she wasn’t going toward an exit. He kept an eye on the hall she would need to pass through if she wanted to flee. Meanwhile, the secretary graciously brought him behind the desk and handed him her cell phone, since, like his clothes, his own phone was probably useless.
He dialed and a surly female voice answered, “Yeah?”