I go in the direction I last saw Dyl and trip over her shoulder. It’s quiet for one second, two, three. All I can hear is my own breathing. All I can smell is Dyl and her fear.
“Oh, Zel. I thought . . . I was sure he was going to help us,” she whispers.
Before I can respond, the strike comes out of nowhere. It hits my left thigh so hard that I choke on the pain. Before I can catch a breath, another blow comes across the left part of my back.
“Stop it!” Dyl screams. “Stop it, Blink! Please!”
I roll on the floor to put a few feet between us and concentrate on my breathing. Marka’s trait is my only weapon now. I take a huge inhalation through my nose, and let it simmer in my brain, finding what I need to know.
Cinnamon. I smell it. Cinnamon, on oatmeal, with crumbles of brown sugar and a river of thick cream. It must have been delicious. She ate two bowls of it, it seems.
As soon as I’m certain, I lunge. The concentration of her scent tells me she’s six feet away, and I don’t even aim for her face. I aim for her ankles. Her skinny legs are in my hands and I yank them forward. She curses in French, falling backward with a crash of elbows against the floor. It’s still pitch-black, but I can punch a face in the dark when I’m holding down a scrawny neck.
It only takes one good blow to make her go limp with fear. I sit astride her, fist poised for another blow, when the lights come on so brilliantly, my eyes wince in pain.
Blink, cowering under me, shrieks. Her black silk clothes rumple under my body.
“Mes yeux! Mes lunettes!” The light burns her huge, fragile retinas so badly, I don’t even have to hold her down. She squeezes her eyes painfully, blindly groping the floor in search of her sunglasses. Micah walks over to us, but makes no motion to help her.
“This has to stop. You’re making it worse for both of you,” he says.
I try to dodge his hands, but I’m not fast enough. He puts one hand on my wrist, another around my neck, pulling me off Blink. He doesn’t have to use his electrical trait to keep me tamed.
He doesn’t have to. He does anyway, the bastard.
The smell of my own flesh burning is horrific, acrid and disgusting. How ironic that it’s the last new scent I’ll learn. Zelia Benten, being burned alive, one handprint at a time. Marking me in places that only a day ago, Cy had touched. I gasp, wondering what’s become of my necklace. Vaguely, I remember Caliga taking it. It’s too late anyway. The necklace would only prolong the pain.
A gentle hiss issues from high above me.
And then, when I can’t take the searing jolts anymore, they mercifully stop. Something soft, wet, and foamy covers me.
“That was a big, big mistake.” Micah stands over me, covered in white foamy blebs that melt on contact with the warmth of his body. I push myself up and look for Dyl. Her hand is hooked over a red lever on the wall. The fire extinguisher.
I raise my hand to grab his ankle, because I know what’s coming. I get a loose handhold on his calf before he simply walks out of my grip. He heads over to Dyl, and punches her in the abdomen with a sickening thud. Her whole body absorbs the momentum and she flies backward, hitting the wall. She tries to block his next blow, but fails.
Micah prepares one last kick. Before him, my tiny sister lies broken on the floor. Her mouth is an open scream with no sound. She is in too much pain to cry. A dark stain blossoms over the back side of her trailing shirt. I watch it, horrified, unable to move. She’s bleeding.
“Stop.”
Micah holds his arm aloft in the air, startled. I turn around to face the person who’s saved us with a single word.
I don’t understand.
It’s SunAj.
CHAPTER 32
“MICAH, STEP BACK,” SUN SAYS WITH A disaffected lilt. He waves a gnarled hand, ushering him away from us. Micah obeys reluctantly. Sun leans over his cane, his flannel shirt slightly rumpled. Aj squirms in his cheek, the tiny limbs kicking Sun’s cheek with impatience.
“I cannot see, my dear. Please turn.”
Sun turns his head. Aj sees me on the floor, what used to be a girl. Now I’m blistered, raw, half dressed, and wholly exhausted.
She turns away and her limbs relax, bobbling in the air. This is no longer exciting for her.
“I don’t understand,” Micah says. “I was just . . . You told me . . .”
“There is another player at the table.” He points his cane at me and Dyl. “Come with me.”
I don’t waste a moment. I go to Dyl and I wrap my arms around her, though the pain shoots white hot from my fried, oozing skin. Micah seems afraid to touch us now. As Dyl and I start to walk toward SunAj, Micah tentatively follows us.
SunAj waves his cane. “No, Micah. Just the girls.”
Dyl and I take a final look at Micah. He stands there, unmoving, eyes on us as the distance between us thankfully grows. His expression is carved out and spare, like he’s lost something he knows he can’t get back.
The door closes on him. In the dark passageway, we walk toward a dim light. SunAj shuffles slowly. He has a bum foot and drags it slightly askew as he walks. Argent’s pulsing music throbs around us.
Finally, SunAj pushes open a door to the right. It’s a spacious office, complete with walls of virtual holo file cabinets and a gigantic desk in burnished mahogany. Someone is standing in the corner. He turns to us as we walk through the door.
I must be hallucinating.
It’s Cy, pale-faced and grim. He’s dressed in the usual depressing garb I so adore. I’m sure it’s my tortured mind giving me solace. He can’t possibly be here. It can’t be real.
“Zel.” Cy’s jaw muscles clench and he puts his hands behind his back. From the roping of his forearms, I can tell he’s hiding balled-up fists.
“Have a seat.” Sun waves his hand to all of us. Dyl and I continue to clutch at each other as we sit on a long embroidered bench by a wall. We’re both bleeding onto the fabric. I’m hoping this doesn’t get us in trouble, when Sun lifts his chin and offers, “Tea?”
A small door opens near the desk and a silver tea service slides onto it. He’s got to be kidding. Insanely, an imaginary advertisement for Aureus pops into my head.
Welcome to Aureus, land of illegal freaks. Have some torture and tea while you’re here.
“No? Well, then. Let’s get to it. I don’t like to give out contradictory orders to my people, so this intrusion had best be worth our time.” He gently wiggles Aj’s foot, and she awakens with a yawn.
“Wot? Is it done? Are we all in order now?” Aj croaks in a sleepy voice.
“No, my dear. New negotiations.” He turns so Aj can see Cy. We’re all staring at him now.
Dyl whispers to me, “Who is that?”
“He’s . . . he’s . . .” I can’t finish the sentence. Boyfriend is too limited a term for what Cy has become to me. Water? Oxygen? That might do.
“From my standpoint,” Sun begins, but he twitches when Aj kicks his chin. “From our standpoint, you have little to bargain with. I don’t need her”—he points at Dyl—“and you’ve just walked into my house. Might as well keep you both in cold storage. It would be rather easier for me, anyway.” He sips his tea slowly. “Young people can be so irritatingly dramatic.”
“True,” Cy agrees. “But what would a year’s jump on research cost you? Or earn you, rather?” Cy steps forward and places a tiny black chip on his desk.