Sunspire (The Reach, Book 4) (42 page)

Knile crouched
next to him.  “How long have they been there?”

Duran snorted.  “I’m not psychic.”  He stood.  “But I’m pretty sure they’re connected to Roman vanishing into thin air.”

Duran set off without another word, his eyes set on the faint marks in the floor, and Knile followed on his heels.

Roman awoke to see a concrete wall moving past him.  Curious, he blinked and tried to clear his head, then realised it was in fact the ceiling he was looking at.  He was moving under it as if he were lying on a conveyor belt.  The next thing he noticed was that his head was aching and throbbing with great intensity, the pain emanating from the back of his skull, just above the neck.

He had no idea where he was, or even how he got here.  The last thing he remembered was walking into the storeroom and looking around–

Something had hit him hard on the back of the head.  He remembered that much.  That was the last thing he’d been conscious of before he’d blacked out.

He tried to sit up, couldn’t.  There was a hand clamped over his mouth.

He tried to cry out, but only succeeded in making a few muffled grunts.

Someone had hold of him.  There were powerful arms around him, preventing him from moving.  Struggle as he might, he was unable to free himself.

Voices whispered
nearby.  He arched his back but couldn’t get a good look at them.  Now he was being manhandled, turned over.  He kicked out with his legs, tried to free himself again, but he was wasting his time.

They had him good and proper.

They changed course, veering across the corridor, then stopped.  Roman heard the sound of a heavy door creaking open, then he was being dragged into a darkened room that was redolent of something wet and metallic.  The door closed again, and he was dragged past the glistening shapes of bulky machines, covered in dials, emanating from which were a multitude of copper pipes.

They were in some sort of plant room.  But why?  What were the Redmen up to?  Taking hostages?

A few moments later he was suddenly freed, thrown on the floor, and two men loomed over him, dimly outlined above.

“Hello, Ciro,” a voice drawled.  “Yefim.  Lights, if you will.”

One of the figures moved away, and a few moments later several yellow lamps stuttered into life around them.  Roman blinked in the sudden glare, taking a few moments to focus on the man over by the light
switch.  He was an older man wearing a black coat, and Roman had no idea who he might be.  He certainly didn’t look like a Redman.

On the other hand, the man standing over Roman and pointing a gun at him was definitely familiar.

Roman gaped up at him.  “What…?”

“Surprised, my old friend?” Vincent Rojas said, a triumphant smile on his face.

“
You?
  How did you get here?  What’s going on–?”

“I haven’t forgotten what you’ve done, Ciro.  Did you think I would?”  He leaned in closer.  “Do you think I’d forget what you put my mother through?  How you took her life?  No, I haven’t forgotten.  I still think about her every day.  I think about
you
every day, Ciro.”

“That’s not my name, you crazy fuck.  And I never knew your mother.”

“You fooled me once, Ciro.  You made me drop my guard.  But that day you escaped from my residence in Lux, I knew that the Greatness had plans for the two of us.  I knew it would not be long until we were drawn together again.  And merely a week later, there you were, sneaking through Lux with your friends.  Through my own backyard.”  He looked Roman over like a piece of meat he was about to dissect.  “So I followed after you.  I chased you all the way down the Reach, across Link… even across the lowlands themselves, leaving no stone unturned until the Greatness brought us together one last time.  Our spirits are intertwined, don’t you see?  We are shackled to one another for eternity.”

“That was you, in the hoods,” Roman said.  He began to sit up.  “Back at the Reach.  What were–?”

“Uh-uh,” Rojas said, shoving the gun forward.  “Stay right there.  Don’t move.”  Yefim appeared at his side again, and Rojas handed the gun over, taking a curved hunting knife from his belt in its stead.  “You needn’t fear the gun, Ciro.  I wouldn’t think of using it on you.  I want to take my time with you.”  He stared smugly at the glinting edge of the knife.  “You’re not supposed to die quickly, see?  Not like those other times when you got off lightly.  You’re going to leave this life a broken man, a wretch.  And when you enter your next body, when you are born again into this world, you will spend your entire life afraid that I’ll find you again.  I’m going to hurt you so badly that your scars will transcend your physical form.  You’re going to feel this in the pit of your soul, Ciro.”

Roman did not shirk away.  He didn’t want to give this bastard the satisfaction.

“You think you can scare me with–?”

Rojas’ face contorted and his hand snapped out, gripping Roman by the hair and roughly wrenching his head to one side.  He reached out with the hunting knife and began to drag it across Roman’s cheek.

Roman shrieked at the sudden, agonising pain in his face.  He reached out but Yefim delivered a vicious kick that knocked his hand away.  Rojas withdrew the knife and stepped back again, a satisfied look on his face.

“The first cut is done,” he said, his eyes shining.  “Never fear, dear Ciro.  The first is always the hardest.  It’s all downhill from here.”

“I told you I’m not the guy you want!” Roman cried.  He lifted a hand to his cheek and felt warm blood flowing freely from the wound.  “It’s not me!”

“You’re beginning to understand it now, aren’t you?” Rojas said.  “The fear.  How does it feel to finally stare into the void, knowing that there’s no way back?”

Roman stared despairingly up at the two men.  In truth, he
was
afraid.  He knew that there was no bargaining with them, no talking his way out of this.  They had followed him all the way to Sunspire Mountain, after all.  They weren’t going to turn away now.

And worse, Rojas was completely insane.  Roman could see it in his eyes.  Twisted by grief for his mother, it seemed that there was no limit to his thirst for vengeance.

How could Roman possibly reason with a man like that?

You don’t reason
, a voice inside of him said.
  You play along with his fantasy.

Maybe that was his only shot.

He took a deep breath and tried to gather his wits about him.
  The fear within him threatened to overwhelm him, but he knew that, should that happen, all would be lost.  Instead, he thought of Knile and Talia, of the railcar waiting to take them away from Earth.  The image of the three of them together, happy, gave him just a modicum of courage, but that was enough.

With a great deal of effort, harnessing all his self-control
, Roman dropped his hand away from his face and straightened his posture.  He glared up at Vincent Rojas with what he hoped seemed like pure malevolence.

“So, boy,” he said coldly.  “Little Vincent.  You’ve finally shown me your true self.”

Rojas blinked, perplexed at this sudden change in demeanour, then tittered to himself with almost childlike glee.

“Ciro,” he hissed, little more than a whisper.  “
Yesss
.”

“I’ve waited for this a long time.”  He climbed to his feet, and Rojas backed off slightly, the knife poised in his hand.  “And how little has changed.”

Rojas’ eyes twitched, and he licked his lips.  “No, old friend.  You are wrong. 
Everything
has changed–”

“You always feared me, didn’t you?  That’s why you couldn’t save your mother.  That’s why you couldn’t stop me.”

“What?  No.”

“You feared me.”

“I was just a boy then–”

“You think you have power over me,” Roman went on in a quiet, intense voice.  “But you don’t.”

“Is that so, Ciro?”

“I have something you want.  Don’t you realise that?”

“The only thing I want is your blood.  And I will take it from you one drop at a time.”

“No!” Roman shouted, and he was rewarded by a flinch from Rojas, who seemed utterly disconcerted by Roman’s transformation.  “There’s something I have that’s far more powerful than that.”

Rojas sneered.  “You can’t bargain with–”

“I have your mother’s last words.  Her last message to you.”

Rojas froze, shocked, and suddenly there were tears glistening in his eyes.  “You do
not
,” he said, his voice cracking.  “Do not speak of her again.”

“Her thoughts were with you, even as the life left her body.”

“
Do not speak of her!
” Rojas roared, advancing and pressing the knife to Roman’s throat.  “Or I will cut the tongue from your mouth!”

He was close, now.  So close.  With the right move, Roman might be able to turn that knife on him.  He just needed–

At that moment, the door opened at the back of the room, and Rojas turned to look.  Roman moved fast, gripping his opponent’s wrist and twisting savagely.  Rojas grunted and recovered quickly.  Larger and stronger than Roman, he was more than a match for the boy in a tussle.

But Roman had grown up on the streets, and he’d learned a few things over the years.  He was used to slipping out of the grasp of bigger opponents, turning the tables on them.

He shifted his body weight downward, effectively throwing himself to the ground, while gripping Rojas’ wrist with all his might.  Caught off-guard by the unexpected move, Rojas reached out with his free hand to break his fall.  Roman twisted his wrist, and the knife with it, angling it in toward Rojas’ chest.  As the two hit the ground, the impact caused the blade to dig deep.  It slid between Rojas’ ribs as neatly as entering a sheath.

Dazed by the weight thumping on top of him, Roman lay there for a second, stunned, before pushing Rojas aside and rolling clear.

Rojas gasped, clutching feebly at the hilt of the knife, his eyes wide, then turned toward Roman.

“The Greatness…”
he whispered
.  His lips moved again, but no
sound came out.

Then his hand dropped away and he lay completely still.

Roman sat there, staring at Rojas and waiting for him to get up, but it didn’t happen.

“Vincent?” Yefim said, staring down at his boss, distraught.  “Vincent?”  He stood there, horrified, and slowly his gaze shifted to Roman.  He lifted the handgun.  “You little mother–”

A gun went off, three sharp cracks echoing across the plant room, and Yefim stumbled and fell to the side, the handgun clattering to the floor.  Roman inadvertently cried out, wondering why he wasn’t dead, then looked about the room.

Alec Duran was standing over by one of the water pumps, a handgun pointed at Yefim’s prone form, and Knile was standing next to him.

49

Taking his fingers from Vincent Rojas’ neck, Knile turned and nodded at Duran, who then lowered his .38.

“It’s done,” Knile said.  He stepped over the dead man and reached out for Roman, taking him in a strong embrace.  It was only then that he realised the boy was bleeding from a wound on his face.  “Shit, Roman.  You’re hurt.”

“I’m okay,” he said, touching gingerly at his face.  “Superficial cut.  The guy wanted to take his time with me.”

“So who are these two?” Duran said, glancing between the corpses.  “Colleagues of the Redmen?”

“No,” Roman said.  “A crazy bastard called Vincent Rojas, some rich guy from Lux.  He kidnapped me a while back, thought I was some evil spirit reincarnate.  He and his henchman saw us as we passed through Lux, then somehow followed us all the way here.”

“The guys in hoods,” Duran said thoughtfully.  “That explains it.”

“That’s quite a feat, to follow you all this way,” Knile remarked.  “He obviously carried one hell of a grudge.”

“Yeah.”  Roman glanced around the plant room.  “How did you find us in here, anyway?”