No Light (29 page)

             
Farran stared at him. "If I do?"

             
The human stared back at him. "Depends."

             
"Explain."

             
"Well, if you plan to take everyone out, I guess I can't do much to stop you. Seeing, how I'm stuck with this guy." He gestured toward Tradis. "But, if my sister gets hurt in anyway-"

             
"I understand your concern, but it is unnecessary," Farran cut him off.

             
The human nodded. "Alright. In that case, I suggest you finish your business here sooner rather than later."

             
"Understood." He gave John an assessing look. "You may be an asset."

             
The human snorted. "Thanks, I think." He shook his head. "You mean you didn't think of that before you had the Colonel mark me?"

             
Farran raised an eyebrow at his tone. "You are questioning me?"

             
John held up his hands. "Just curious."

             
He glanced toward the window. The sun painted the eastern sky in a bright palette of yellow, pink, and purple. "I did not think past removing the threat to myself."

             
Tradis raised an eyebrow.

             
"What if I had been useless?" John continued.

             
"You are the brother of my Marked." Farran stated, unsure of the human's point.

             
"So, I can't be an idiot?"

             
Farran pined him with a warning glare. "What is it you are seeking, human?"

             
John crossed his arms. "I'm just trying to figure this out. I mean, you're saying you did it to protect yourself, but all I see is how it would make my sister happy. Maybe, I'm missing the part where your actions are selfish."

             
Farran growled. "You overstep yourself." He rose from his chair and sent his second a dark look. "Control your Marked."

             
"Are you going to see my sister?" the human asked.

             
"I am." He started to pull open the door and paused. "What would she do if she thought you had died?" He did not turn, but he heard the human stand from his chair.

             
"I'm not sure, but it wouldn't be good." He took a step toward him. "Can I come with you to see her?"

             
Farran glared at the door, but nodded. "Fine." He pulled open the door and heard the human hurry after him.

             
"She's got a good head on her shoulders, most of the time," John said, as they climbed the stairs.

             
"And when she does not?" Tradis asked, from somewhere behind him.

             
"She can be a little reckless," the human answered.

             
"Would she aid the humans?"

             
Farran paused at his second's question. He turned to face the human. John looked back and forth between the two of them.

             
"You mean Keane? Not a chance."

             
"The humans in City Hall?" Tradis demanded.

             
The human cocked his head to the side in thought. "Are they in danger?"

             
"Not at the moment," Farran answered. He felt his stomach clench at the time the human took to think it over.

             
Finally, John shook his head. "She's loyal to a fault. Once she's in your camp, it's for keeps."

             
Farran gave him a curt nod and jerked open the door to the second floor. His eyes immediately narrowed at the empty hallway. The guards were absent. He increased his pace.

             
"The guards," his second muttered.

             
He rapped on Sarah's door. When she did not answer, he pushed open the door.

             
"Where is she?" the human asked, pushing past him.

             
He watched John scan the room and peek into the bathroom. "Absent." He inhaled deeply. Her scent was already several hours old.

             
"I noticed."

             
He ignored the human's tone, and turned to his second. "Find her."

             
Tradis nodded and turned to stride away.

             
"Hey, you don't think the king guy would do anything to her, do you?"

             
Farran turned on the human. "I barely tolerate your presence, as it is. Do not make me regret sparing your life."

             
John clamped his mouth shut.

             
"Come with me," Tradis tossed over his shoulder. The human followed his second from the room without a backward glance.

             
After their footsteps faded, he scanned the room. The bedclothes were neatly tucked around the bed. A small stack of clothes sat beside the dresser. He crossed his arms over his chest.

             
The human's words would not leave him. The king. Surely, the fool would not dare to lay a hand on Sarah. He scowled around the room, unable to get Lonan's words out of his mind. He had been so insistent on reversing her marks. Farran growled to himself and slammed out of the room.

             
He did not pass a guard until he reached the lobby. The Dem cringed when he saw him.

             
"General-" he started.

             
"Perhaps, you would like to tell me why my orders have been disobeyed."

             
"The king demanded-"

             
"Why was I not informed?" he interrupted.

             
The private did not raise his eyes from the floor. "King Lonan specifically said you were not to be informed."

             
Farran bared his teeth. "My Marked?"

             
The Dem's head popped up. "Ms. Mackenzie was not mentioned."

             
"And, yet, she is not in her room." He took in the Private's obvious surprise. "Where is the king?"

             
"The east edge of the square," his soldier replied quickly.

             
He nodded and started toward the door. He paused just before he stepped onto the sidewalk. "And Private Kenir?'

             
"General?"

             
He glanced at him. "We will discuss this later."

             
Kenir visibly deflated. "Yes, sir."

             
He shoved open the door and stalked into the brisk morning air. Lonan's camp was easy to find. A two-story business center, the front sidewalk was crowded with members of the king's guard. He ignored the respectful nods and shoved his way into the lobby.

             
"Lonan!" he bellowed.

             
The surrounding Dems stared at him in shock. He bared his teeth at them, until they looked away.

             
"Where is the king?" he demanded, from no one in particular. Before anyone could answer, his brother strode into the room.

             
"General," his brother acknowledged formally. His gaze swept the crowded lobby. "You have business to discuss with me?"

             
Farran narrowed his eyes at him. "I do. Where is my Marked?"

             
Lonan's eyes widened fractionally. "Perhaps, it is best to move to a more private-"

             
"Where is she?" he interrupted.

             
Lonan's eyes narrowed. "You have far too much concern for the human, and it makes you forget yourself."

             
Farran opened his mouth to reply, but the air filled with a deep rumble. He jerked his eyes away from his brother to frown toward the street. The noise increased, then slowly faded away. He scowled.

             
"What is this?" he demanded.

             
Lonan shook his head. He crossed the room to stand beside him. The two of them watched the Dems on the sidewalk. The noise came again, and he watched the Dems tip their heads back to look up.

             
"My king," one of the king's guard called.

             
Lonan moved forward. Farran followed him to the front door, the two of them setting aside the current business. Lonan stepped out on the sidewalk, as a dark shape flew low over the city. Farran watched the jet until it vanished from view.

             
"The humans seem to have taken notice of our presence," Lonan mused darkly.

…

              She huddled behind a dumpster in the alley. In the sparse light of early morning, two Dems paced in front of the backdoor. She followed them with her eyes, chewing on her bottom lip nervously. Keane had to be somewhere near. The Dems drifted around the corner of the building out of sight.

             
She slowly stood and glanced around. The alley was deserted. She ducked her head and raced across the street to the backdoor. The lock was already disengaged. She eased the heavy door open and slipped inside. Light spilled down the hall from beneath the third door on the right.

             
A soft sound, like the scuff of a boot, sounded from off to her left. She ducked through the nearest doorway and held her breath. Two voices muttered to each other, voices not deep enough to be Dems. She narrowed her eyes.

             
A tall, thin figure appeared out of the shadows. He turned his head both ways and pushed open the door to the lit room. The momentary flood of light revealed Robinson slinking back down the hall, as Keane shut himself inside the office.

             
She watched until Robinson vanished around the corner. With a deep breath, she tip-toed toward the door. A thin sliver of the room was visible through the crack between the door and the frame. The visible section of the room was empty. Keane's voice whispered something.

             
She pressed her ear against the crack to make out the quiet words. A moment later, a radio crackled and another voice answered.

             
"…ETA one minute."

             
She heard a rustling sound and the scrape of a chair across the floor. Keane came into view. He hunched over an old roll top desk. She could not hear most of his low mutter.

             
"…an idea…weakness…some time."

             
She frowned, as the radio voice spoke again.

             
"…before the Dems have time to mobilize…can't afford a full scale attack."

             
The chair creaked.

             
"…forty-eight hours…people in City Hall…to evacuate."

             
Sarah took a step back. She looked down the hall both ways. The outside world wanted to attack the city. The roar of a jet engine made the building shudder.

             
"…don't send a communication…assume the attempt failed…five square miles."

             
"Understood," Keane answered louder.

             
The radio went silent, as the rumble of the jet faded. She inched forward to peek through the crack, again. Keane was gone.

             
"What have we here?" a voice hissed in her ear.

             
She jerked around, a scream in her throat. She saw a flash of Robinson's face, then nothing.

Chapter Sixteen

Night Blooms

             
Something warm jabbed into her stomach, shoving under her ribcage in a steady rhythm. The rocking motion, combined with the pain, made her choke back bile. She forced her eyes open and tried to ignore the throb at the back of her head. Her cheek stung, as if she had been struck. Rough, dark cloth covered her face. It rubbed against her cheek painfully.

             
"Should have left her there," a male voice grumbled.

             
She squeezed her eyes closed and listened hard. Robinson. The trainer's voice held the same disgust, as it had on her first day in The Corridor. She forced herself to stay limp.

             
He muttered under his breath and shifted her weight. It made the sharp edge of his shoulder dig deeper into her stomach. She clenched her teeth against the pain.

             
"We already talked about this. This is the best way," she heard Keane answer from off to her left.

             
The soft thud of boots on dirt gave way to the rustle of grass.

             
"Just put her down over there," Keane said.

             
She heard Robinson grunt his agreement. Hands gripped her waist and jerked her backward, before they let her go. She fell what felt like five feet and hit the ground with a solid thump. Pain radiated out from her hip, throbbing in time with her heartbeat. She grit her teeth and forced herself to stay still.

             
He huffed in what sounded like amusement and nudged her with his foot.

             
"Bitch is out cold," he called to someone nearby. His hand gripped one of her shoulders hard enough to bruise. "Don't think it'll matter much." She felt his fingers trail down to the neckline of her jacket.

             
She did not think. Her hand shot out in the direction of his voice and she heard surprised yelp, as her knuckles connected with something solid.

             
"Son of a-"

             
The furious voice moved toward her. She flailed, kicking and swinging her arms in his direction.

             
"You bi-" The voice cut off when her boot connected with something soft.

             
She heard a string of curses, then a heavy body fell on her. She threw knees and elbows at the weight, until something smacked the side of her head hard enough to make her see stars.

             
"Stupid little-" Robinson growled, and jerked the hood off her head.

             
She blinked at the bright light and narrowed her eyes at the shadow over her.               Robinson bared his teeth, still holding his jaw. She felt a twinge of satisfaction at his bloody lip.

             
"Get up!"

             
He grabbed the front of her jacket and yanked her to her feet. She stumbled, but refused to fall into him. He glared at her.

             
"What is going on," she heard Keane call from behind her.

             
She did not turn her head to look at him, afraid to take her eyes off the ex-trainer.

Robinson spit a mouthful of blood on the grass at their feet, never taking his eyes from her. She could see his hatred. She slowly backed away from him.

              "Fucking cunt tried to break my jaw," he snarled.

             
Sarah's eyes widened at the insult. She scanned the field behind him, until he took a step toward her. Her eyes jerked to him. The left side of his face was an angry red. Her brother would be proud.

             
"If you had tied her up, as I said, it would not be an issue," Keane drawled, from close behind her.

             
She glanced over her shoulder in time to see him reach for her. She did as her brother taught her and ducked away, swinging her hand up to block him. Surprise flashed across his face and he scowled.

             
"I don't have the patience for this." He waved his hand in her direction. "Handle it."

             
She backed away from him until she collided with something solid.

             
"Yes, sir," a voice sneered from behind her.

             
She started to turn, but the man grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her off balance. She fell into him, aiming her fist for his face, as she dug her nails into the hand gripping her hair. He hissed in pain, but did not let go.

             
Another man moved up behind her and snatched her wrist mid-swing. He jerked it behind her back and reached for the other. She twisted frantically, but the tug on her hair pulled her neck into a harsh angle.

             
"Give it up, girly," he panted in her face.

             
She tried to turn her head away but his grip was too tight. The man behind her, grasped her free wrist in a harsh grip and joined it with the other. The rope bit into her skin, but she refused to show them how much it hurt.

             
"Kitty's got claws, huh?" the first man leaned forward to hiss in her ear.

             
She ignored him and let them drag her toward Keane. They shoved her to the ground at his feet and he frowned down at her.

             
"All of this could have been avoided. Your uncle, your brother, this situation."

             
She dropped her gaze to glare at the ground. "What do you mean?"

             
He laughed. "What do I mean?" His feet circled her. "You come from a long line of meddlesome idiots. All of them, the same. Regurgitating the same nonsense every few years. The Dems are people, they deserve respect." He let out a huff of amusement.

             
"They do deserve respect," she said, as he stopped in front of her.

             
"That's just the marks talking, Mackenzie." He knelt and gripped her chin. "Look at me."

             
She narrowed her eyes at the ground.

             
"I said, look at me," he snarled. He squeezed her chin hard enough to make her eyes water. "You think I won't break you?"

             
She clenched her jaw and slowly raised her eyes to his. He sneered.

             
"I knew you weren't as stupid as Robinson said you were." He glanced over her shoulder where she assumed Robinson stood. "I admit, I really thought that Dem would take one look at you and…" He shrugged.

             
Her eyes drifted past him scan the tree line.

             
"But, no." His fingers released their vise-like grip on her chin. "He makes you immortal." He stroked her cheek softly.

             
She refused to look at him. She felt his breath on her cheek, as he leaned forward.

             
"Do you know how long we've wanted to know the secret?"

             
Her eyes flicked to him, then quickly away. His tone made her skin crawl.

             
"And then one day, all the listening pays off. Marking. The way to get that power." His lips were so close they brushed her ear as he spoke. "And the way to break that power."

             
She bit back a gasp, as he shoved her away. With her hands bound, her shoulder took the brunt of the impact with the ground.

             
"I don't know what you're talking about."

             
Keane turned away from her. "From what I gather, that Dem felt it when you took that bullet."

             
Her eyes moved over the men surrounding them.

             
"And I already know separation weakens it."

             
"Him," she spat.

             
Keane continued, as if she had not spoken. "So, I developed a little theory."

             
She rose to her knees with a soft grunt.

             
"If you are kept apart long enough," he turned to face her, "maybe, your death will kill it."

             
She stared at him. "It won't."

             
"Let's just see, shall we?" He walked around her to where Robinson stood in the circle.

             
"I say we let the men have their fun." She could feel the trainer's eyes on her.

             
"We need her alive," Keane replied mildly.

             
She resisted the urge to look at them. Her eyes scanned the expressions of the city guards surrounding her.

             
"Never said she couldn't be a little roughed up," Robinson argued.

             
Her eyes widened when Keane did not immediately answer. She glanced at him. His eyes were considering.

…

              "My guards are patrolling the forest." Lonan's voice jerked him out of his thoughts.

             
He gave the king a curt nod. "I thank you, brother."

             
"I will take my leave."

             
He watched Lonan walk away, his mind only partially engaged.

             
"You find her, yet?" John spoke up from behind him.

             
He turned to give him a warning look. "Do not test me."

             
John scowled. "Maybe, you need someone who actually knows what they're doing. Those woods are thick. It's easy to get turned around if you don't-"

             
"Enough!" His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. The human opened his mouth to argue, and he took a step toward him. "I have no patience for you," he growled.

             
He is Sarah's brother. He repeated the fact to himself over and over, as he watched the human let out a heavy sigh. His hand rose to absently rub at his chest.

             
"The ator ails you?"

             
He glanced at his second. "It has been hours, not days."

             
Tradis nodded, but his narrowed gaze stayed on him. "I am aware."

             
Farran tried to ignore him, but questions rose in his mind. "Come with me," he tossed over his shoulder. He stalked down the sidewalk, away from the hotel.

             
"You wished to speak with me?" Tradis asked, after they had moved out of the human's hearing range.

             
Farran nodded. He slowed his pace and joined his hands behind his back. "You feel a pull toward the human?"

             
Tradis snorted. "No. Do you?"

             
He huffed in amusement. "Not at all." They walked in silence for several minutes.               "Yet, your marked experienced rapid healing." He caught Tradis' nod from the corner of his eye.

             
"A family trait, I assume."

             
Farran nodded. "Yes."

             
"You feel a pull toward your marked?"

             
He gave his second a curt nod. "I do. I had assumed it was a result of the Mackenzie blood."

             
"Yet, I feel nothing," Tradis said.

             
"Correct."

             
"And this existed before the marking?" He felt Tradis studying him.

             
He nodded.

             
"She hears your thoughts? You feel her pains?"

             
He paused. "She does, and I do." He watched his second frown in thought.

             
"On the surface, it appears to be a well developed marking bond." Tradis crossed his arms. "Yet, the draw you speak of…" he trailed off.

             
"Unheard of," Farran finished his thought.

             
Tradis nodded. "Yes."

…

              She stumbled away from him, her bound hands throwing off her balance. The faces around her blurred into a sea of leers. Hands reached for her, curled into claws that ripped at her jacket. A scream built in her chest, but she bit it back stubbornly.

             
"Come here, kitty," one of the men called.