Wyvern’s Angel

  “Four?” Bond was shocked. He’d been followed by four assailants and not noticed? Diverta’s power to distract him was terrifying.

  But she’d killed one of them. To defend him or confuse him?

  Whose side was she on?

  He wanted to dip into her thoughts so badly that it hurt.

  “Describe them!” he demanded.

  “Two men.” She went to the window and peered around the shutter, then opened it. She glanced down at the ground. “Recognize him?”

  Bond joined her warily, looking up and down the alley beyond the window before he considered the corpse. He couldn’t help but admire that the man had been felled with a single shot to the heart through a shuttered window. He’d have to remember that Diverta was a good shot.

  Then he glimpsed into the attacker’s heart, recoiling from the stain of darkness upon his soul. He shot him between the eyes, ensuring that his life was extinguished, then stepped back.

  “No,” he admitted to his companion. “Never seen him before.”

  Diverta grimaced. “That’s inconvenient.”

  Bond didn’t tell her that the man’s identity was irrelevant. He knew who had hired the four—now three—and that was plenty of information.

  Running from the Gloria Furore was seldom a successful venture.

  And he hadn’t been as clever as he’d thought.

  “You’re a good shot,” he said warily.

  “My sister insisted upon it.” Diverta acted as if this was common, and maybe it was common in Incendium for sisters who were sirens to train with firearms.

  Sisters who worked together to distract potential victims.

  What if she wasn’t really a siren?

  She smiled at him. “You’re not bad yourself.”

  A crackling voice came through the comm unit in the room in that moment.

  “Someone wants an explanation,” Diverta said, then raised her voice. “Just a party!” she called and the voice replied, though Bond couldn’t understand the words. Diverta shot the comm out with a single blast from the laze and it fell silent.

  And the music from the club grew louder, as if the volume had been turned up.

  “They’ll investigate that,” Bond said.

  “So, we should leave before they do,” she replied, her manner pragmatic. “Coming?”

  Bond shoved a hand through his hair and took a step away from his surprising companion. Who was she really? What did she want from him? He bent to retrieve his tunic, not quite turning his back upon her. “But you said there were four.”

  “A woman and a triped. We passed the triped on the way back here.” Diverta was checking the charge on the laze, her movements revealing that she was familiar with such weapons.

  “With a drink at the bar,” Bond remembered. “I didn’t recognize him, either.”

  She gave him a steady look, assessment in her eyes. “So, you’re being hunted, not protected. Who are you really and what have you done?”

  It was disconcerting to have anything in common with her, even if it was a desire for information.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said and put out his hand. “Give me my laze.”

  “I think it does matter,” she replied, keeping the weapon from him. Her eyes narrowed. “What are the scars on your back?”

  Bond caught his breath. He was sure she shouldn’t have been able to see them. He’d kept his back turned and tried to be quick when getting his tunic.

  The way her eyes glittered made him think that she didn’t miss much.

  And she hadn’t been as surprised by the attack as he had been.

  What did that remind him of? Or who? His memories seemed to be slipping through his fingers, like sand. Was he wrong about the clarity of her soul?

  “What scars?”

  She gestured with the laze—his laze—and he realized the broken display screen would have acted like a mirror when it wasn’t powered up. “Those two diagonal lines on your back. They look old and deep.”

  “Old injuries,” he lied with a shrug. “Line of duty.”

  “And what duty is that?”

  “Am I being interrogated?” he asked, keeping his tone teasing.

  “They must have hurt,” she said. “How were you attacked? And why like that? There are easier ways to stab someone in the heart or lungs...” She paused. “It looks as if you were deliberately disfigured.”

  “It’s not important,” Bond said firmly, closing his tunic and shoving his laze back into the holster. It blinked as it recharged and he was glad he’d invested in the better chargers. It was already a third done. He headed for the door but Diverta didn’t move.

  In fact, she was in his path.

  Now she was neither a seductress nor an innocent, but a practical commando.

  Bond refused to be fascinated.

  Her expression was stern. “If you have a weakness, I need to know what it is.”

  “No, you don’t.” He put out his hand again. “Give me the laze, Diverta.” He said her name with enough emphasis that she’d know he realized it was an alias.

  Instead of doing what he asked, she spun the laze on one finger. He hoped she had the safety on. “So, you’re not really surprised to be hunted, and even though you’ve decided that I was part of some plot to kill you, you aren’t asking who I’m working for.” She eyed him. “That means you already know who’s after you.”

  “It’s not your business.”

  “Of course it is! They shot at me, too.” She wagged the weapon at him and he didn’t trust her control of it enough to make a grab for it. His survival felt precarious in this moment, and it wasn’t thrilling. “Because I wasn’t part of a plot to corner you, which makes me a second potential victim. I don’t have a sense of humor about anyone trying to kill me.”

  “I’m glad we have something in common. Give me the laze and go back to your sisters.”

  She tilted her head to study him and he noticed the glitter of her eyes. It was assessing and once again, he was sure she not only read his thoughts but calculated his intentions. “Where will you go?”

  “Away.”

  “Where?”

  “I’m not going to tell you.”

  “Just tell me that you have a plan.” She smiled, inviting him to do as much. “Tell me that you know your exact coordinates in Incendium city and that you know a way to get out of town, unobserved.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ll worry about you otherwise.”

  Bond frowned at this emotional ploy and its effectiveness.

  “Or tell me that you have a friend in town who isn’t trying to kill you.” She arched a brow when he didn’t reply. “Or a stash of weapons somewhere.”

  Bond scowled at her.

  “A hidden Starpod?” she invited.

  “I don’t need to review any of this with you.”

  “Powers that no one can discern until you use them?”

  “Give me the laze.”

  Diverta shook her head and shoved the laze into her belt. “I can help you.”

  “You’ve helped me enough, thanks.” Should he abandon the laze and just go? It was tempting, but he might need all the firepower he could get.

  Three against one. And time ticking away. Bond felt cold perspiration slide down his spine. He was ready to have those wings back. “Give me the laze.”

  “Do you know anyone in Incendium city?” she asked. She didn’t give Bond a chance to reply, which was good because he wouldn’t have told her anything. “I’m guessing that you just got off a starship or freighter. You’re certainly not from here because I’d have noticed you.”

  “You don’t know that...”

  “Oh, I do,” she said with complete conviction and took a deep breath. “I would have smelled your scent,” she murmured, her eyes glowing with that sensual intent again.

  Bond paced the room rather than look at her, because his body was responding rapidly to the sight of her arousal. He didn’t need to be distracte
d again.

  “I assume you have a point,” he said tersely.

  “Only that you need me.”

  Bond laughed even though he was starting to wonder. “I don’t think so.”

  “I do.” She held up a finger for silence and looked again like she was shimmering. Her eyes brightened to a blue glitter he couldn’t even look at without narrowing his eyes. Had he heard a footfall? He wasn’t sure, not with the pulse of the dance music coming from the club.

  “I think you should come with me,” Diverta said, her voice louder. “I’ll get you back to the Star Station. I know a way around the lines.”

  Bond opened his mouth to argue that he had no intention of returning to the Star Station, but Diverta suddenly spun and fired the laze toward the door. Her shot sliced perfectly through one of the existing holes and Bond was impressed by her prowess again. There was a grunt and he heard someone swear softly in Forludian, then footsteps retreated.

  He stared at Diverta, wondering how she’d heard the attacker.

  “The triped,” she said under her breath. “The rhythm of the footfalls was unmistakable.”

  He went to what remained of the door and looked down the corridor but the triped was gone.

  Diverta grimaced. “Sorry but I’ve chosen one direction we can’t go now. I assumed you had something to do here, not at the Star Station.”

  Bond realized she’d let the triped escape, with incorrect information. He thought he’d made a good spy, but Diverta was doing better than him in this situation.

  He swore under his breath in Forludian, too. It was a good language for expressing frustration.

  Diverta confronted him, as regal as a queen, her manner expectant. “So, do we have a partnership?”

  Who was she?

  Did it matter?

  “How did we get to partners?” he asked with exasperation.

  “I won’t help you on any other terms.”

  “What exactly do you want?”

  Her smile was unabashedly sensual. “I already told you,” she murmured, her eyes glowing.

  He’d pay for her help with sex.

  It was more than a tempting proposition.

  The incredible thing was that he still wanted her, although he didn’t want to lose sight of her. He didn’t trust her. He couldn’t trust her. But his attraction to her was undiminished.

  If she’d led the attackers to him, it might be smarter to keep her within sight.

  “Do we have a deal?” she asked, her voice husky.

  Bond realized he might not get out of Incendium city without assistance, much less survive until the rendezvous, and the only one offering that kind of help was Diverta. She’d made a good argument.

  He’d take advantage of her offer. He didn’t have to trust her. He didn’t have to sleep before they escaped the city. As soon as possible, he’d continue on his quest, meet the Host and return to the celestial realm.

  With few choices and little time, Bond had to work with the options available.

  “We do,” he said and offered his hand.

  Diverta smiled, those ripe lips curving in invitation as she closed the distance between them. “I think this requires more than a handshake,” she murmured, then slid her free hand around the back of his neck. He shivered at the surety of her touch and his blood quickened in anticipation. “Maybe an expression of good will to seal the deal.” Bond had time to smile then she captured his lips with hers.

  She tasted so good.

  She felt so good.

  He had the strange sense that he’d been waiting for her, all his days and nights in the mortal realm, and that odd conviction that being with Diverta would exceed every other pleasure he’d sampled.

  He had to know.

  Bond, as much as he knew it would be smart to do otherwise, closed his eyes in satisfaction, drew her into his embrace and deepened their kiss.

  This siren’s touch was so seductive that it was pure heaven.

  Even as she kissed Bond, Percipia was wondering. How was she going to seduce the Carrier of the Seed if they were on the run? How would she claim the Seed once he left the city and her? She had to save his life first, then seduce him quickly, and do it before he left Incendium. Maybe it wouldn’t be a permanent rescue, just a temporary one.

  She wouldn’t think about any possibility of watching him die.

  Percipia needed a sanctuary and there was only one that would do.

  Actually, she could think of two, but she wouldn’t take the Carrier to the palace even with this change of situation. It wasn’t a question of offending her father’s sensibilities anymore. It was a question of safety—both his and that of her family.

  The palace would be secure if she could get Bond inside, but Percipia doubted they’d make it that far. She had a strong sense that his attackers would guess that destination and make a last effort to kill the Carrier. That would launch a firestorm outside the gates and Bond could be killed—before she claimed the Seed.

  No, the other solution was the one that would work best.

  Although it still offered challenges.

  The wounded triped would follow them, but might believe that they were headed for the star port. The second man could be anywhere and might be injured. The woman could be anywhere, as well.

  They needed to flee immediately.

  But Bond’s kiss was too potent to be cut short. His touch distracted Percipia from practicalities with an increasingly familiar power. If it hadn’t been for the Seed, his influence over her would have been vastly diminished. If it hadn’t been for the Seed, her dragon wouldn’t have been so alert and observant. It was a strange combination that Percipia knew would only become exhausting.

  It also meant that she had to claim the Seed as soon as possible, for the safety of both of them.

  Which cast another vote for the other sanctuary, since it was closer.

  She tore her lips from his with reluctance, her heart racing. “We have to go.”

  “You were the one who wanted a kiss,” he said, his expression so intense that she knew he wanted more. “We’re alone for the moment...”

  “There is no door securing the room,” she reminded him.

  “I’m not that shy.”

  Percipia smiled. “I am. Let’s go.”

  He stretched out his hand. “My laze?”

  “It’s mine for the foreseeable future.” At his visible concern, she continued. “You can have it back when we’re safe and our deal is complete.” She could see that he didn’t like that, but he didn’t argue any more.

  Instead, he checked the charge on the one he still carried. He gave her a warning look. “We’ll probably be ambushed as soon as we leave.”

  “That’ll give us a chance to reduce their numbers again.”

  “I like how you think.” His smile flashed, then he gestured to the window. “Let’s be unpredictable,” he said, his expression revealing that it was his preference. No sooner had Percipia nodded than he jumped and kicked out the window pane with one foot. It fell into the street below and shattered.

  She was impressed by his agility, but there was no time to compliment him. Bond was on the sill, looking into the alley.

  It was silent.

  “After you,” Bond said.

  Percipia hesitated. “So I can draw their fire?”

  “Because you know the way to wherever you’ve decided we should go.”

  Percipia couldn’t argue with that. She glanced back at the smoking doorway behind them, thought she heard a footfall, and nodded. She leaped to the sill then jumped into the night without hesitation, hearing Bond close behind her.

  She supposed she could count on him to keep up.

  She gave him a warning look, then began to run.

  Diverta was faster than Bond had expected.

  She ran silently without becoming out of breath, as if she was used to running a lot. He quickly became aware that he hadn’t used the exercise room on the Archangel with nearly enough frequen
cy. The stronger force of gravity was wearying to him, as well, as he should have anticipated. He hadn’t thought he needed to train, not so close to the end of his mission.

  It wasn’t reassuring to discover that he’d been wrong.

  Or to have to acknowledge the limitations of his physical form again.

  Bond felt obtrusive as he followed Diverta, well aware of the heavy sounds of his own boots on the cobbled streets and seeing his own shadow on the ground. Diverta seemed to be one with the shadows, and to move as swiftly—and as unobtrusively—as the wind. It took everything he had just to keep up.

  She charted a twisted course, winding down toward the river. Although they doubled back on their path a number of times and made so many feints that he was almost disoriented, their path slanted steadily downward. Her destination must be the port, he reasoned, which had to be a good place to find a way out of the city. In his experience, disreputable deeds occurred near ports and illegal assistance could be more readily found there. Diverta jumped a fence and cut through a small yard behind a house, then did it again, probably making sure it was difficult for them to be followed.

  Bond thought he heard footsteps in pursuit at first, but soon there was silence.

  At the quiet port, she pivoted in a dark alley, then darted through an area that looked less prosperous. He heard the sounds from a few taverns and bars, but Diverta didn’t enter any of them. They wound their way up a hill, using service alleys and back lanes. The homes became larger and more prosperous in appearance and he wondered if they were close to the palace. He wasn’t entirely certain where they were and began to worry about his reliance upon her.

  She could be leading him directly into danger.

  He liked it less when she paused outside a darkened doorway. She glanced back then slid open a panel he hadn’t noticed. Bond leaned on the wall beside her, struggling to catch his breath. Diverta tapped in an access code and he memorized it by force of habit.

  A light flashed and she swore softly under her breath. “They changed it,” she muttered, with obvious frustration.

  Bond glanced back. Even though he couldn’t hear their pursuers, he knew they were coming after him. Wherever it was that Diverta wanted to lead him had to be better than waiting to be shot, with his own lazes still charging.