Zenith, p.12
Zenith, page 12
Zenith held up his hand. “If he wanted you to carry this message, it’ll wait until I see what’s happening here.” He edged closer, not triggering his datpad or the tracker on her lest Ransey’s device be sensitive to such signals. Instead, the beast sniffed for anything threatening.
And caught a whiff of accelerant. He forced himself to stay loose as he circled the motionless bot holding Callie within its plasteel grasp. “Can you move at all?”
She shook her head. “Enough to spit at him but not to strike.” Her voice held an edge of regret. “The locking mechanism doesn’t respond to the release codes that you tried on the construction bot either. And I think I’m strapped too close to it to blow it up without…” She swallowed hard. “Anyway, I’m stuck.”
The gryfon’s wild fury tore through him. Abducted again, and right in front of him now but there was nothing he could do. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said harshly. “Their rivalry doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
She gazed at him. “But I am part of this. I wanted to be part of this. This is my new life. And I won’t let some bitter, jealous being take that from me.”
He crouched on his haunches in front of her, admiration rising for her strength even in this moment of her duress. “I won’t leave you here,” he promised.
Although he couldn’t see a way to free her. The manacles binding her to the bot were rigged to a detonator. There might be a timer as well that he wasn’t seeing, or maybe it would be triggered by her speaking whatever message Ransey wanted her to give. There was no space to wrap a protective cloak around her this time, and even his beast wouldn’t be fast and agile enough to yank her away from the explosion. He couldn’t even take her place.
“Callie, this is tricky,” he admitted.
“It’s impossible,” she countered. “I already know that.” She blew out a breath. “Maybe it was impossible all along. But at least I had a little while to fly, and it was everything I wanted.”
His beast growled. “No.”
She jerked back a little. “No? You didn’t…you didn’t want it too?”
“It’s not impossible,” he corrected. “We did it before, so we can do it again.” He rose to his feet. “And yes, I wanted it too.”
He prowled around her, looking for the weakness. Essentially, she was sitting on a bomb. Whatever Ransey wanted Evens to know, it ended in fire and destruction.
Checking his datpad again, he noted the lack of signal. If Ransey was some sort of robotics specialist, as Farah claimed, he would know better than to rely on a steady connection in Sunset Falls. Which meant that any reliable ignition must be timed, hardwired, or activated by some other stimulus. The bot lacked heavy external plates which meant most of the internal working were at least partly accessible, but the complicated mechanisms were far beyond the scope of Zenith’s experience. The gryfon spun with frustration and fury but didn’t try to wrest control from him.
Even the beast knew they were in trouble.
Timed, hardwired, or triggered?
He hunkered down where the stink of explosives pinched his nostrils. Not timed, since Ransey couldn’t know when Callie would share the message. Not hardwired, since the coward wouldn’t stay so close that he might get caught. Which left triggered by some specific impulse.
Evens or Farah might have an idea, maybe Tyler with her abrupt immersion in ET tech could guess. But they weren’t here and might not get the message in time. If he left…
He would not leave Callie.
“Leave,” she whispered. “Get away before…”
“No,” he reminded her, not even glancing up.
Gryfons were taken by beast battalions for their swift and daring strikes, heedless of danger. He’d never been tasked with thinking through a puzzle of wires and code. The prize, a princess freed. Failure…no.
What was the trigger?
Ransey had worked with Farah, seeking to use her bot expertise for his own ends. But Farah had also implied Ransey had sought to replace her soured relationship with Evens. And rather than simply killing Evens, Ransey was trying to ruin the other male.
Zenith cursed under his breath. The only thing more confusing than the innards of a custom bot was the tangle of feelings gone bad. He’d always considered himself well clear of that problem—no mate, no maze, no mess—but here he was, as stuck as Callie.
And he wouldn’t choose another place without her.
Ransey could have left Farah behind when the beast battalion caught her after rescuing Evens, but he hadn’t. But he hadn’t tried to free her either. He didn’t want to leave because he wanted revenge as well as ruination.
Zenith gazed up at Callie. He’d only ever wanted the night skies himself, but maybe… Maybe, seeing the hopelessness in her eyes—she, who’d found a way to a new life on hope alone—he wanted revenge too.
Because he wasn’t sure hope was possible in this moment—and depending on the next moment, there might not be any moments thereafter.
Love or hate. Alone and free, or chosen and bound. Hopelessness or hope.
He let out a slow breath. If he hunted for hope…
A trigger meant there must also be a way to not trigger the explosion.
He stilled, remembering the data Tyler had sent him from Farah. He’d only been half paying attention, distracted by thoughts about Callie, but he’d read through the transcript of the females’ conversation. The concept of sex machines to replace lovers had made the gryfon spit with amusement.
Farah had talked about embedding all her bots with a kill switch to prevent misuse. She’d also said Ransey had pirated her code. If he hadn’t known or understood or cared about that code, if he hadn’t deactivated that switch…
Zenith put his hand on Callie’s ankle, just above the clamp of plasteel. She shivered, and he swore he would kill Ransey for making her flinch at a touch.
Assuming they didn’t die in a fiery blast.
He gazed up at her. “We can wait until my team comes. Maybe Farah knows the release.”
She bit her lip. “Waiting hasn’t always worked out for me in the past.”
He wanted to remind her that he’d rescued her before, but that didn’t mean anything this time. “According to the records she sent us, Farah said she coded her machines with off commands.”
Callie’s dark eyes widened. “And she said Ransey stole her work. So maybe… Yes, let’s do it.”
He didn’t ask again, summoning up his memory of the info Farah and Tyler had sent to the beast battalion. “It’s not you, it’s—”
“Wait,” Callie squeaked. “You have it backward.” She gulped. “It’s not me, it’s you.”
Every muscle in his body tensed, as if he could take the brunt of whatever was coming, but instead, the bot’s plasteel bands released without a sound.
When she let out a shuddering breath, he tightened his grip on her ankle. “Are you ready?”
She stared at him. “For…for what? We did it already.”
“The bindings were meant to hold you here while you delivered your message, but that wasn’t all Ransey wanted.” He hesitated. “Or he wouldn’t have wired the bomb underneath.”
She froze. “Of course it couldn’t be that easy,” she said in a wry tone. “We should probably get out of here then.”
At least she wasn’t trying to tell him to leave anymore. He smiled at her. “So you’re ready?”
She nodded and put her hand in his.
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, and she matched his hold, her grip almost as strong as his. “Dive for that couch,” he ordered.
She gave him a lopsided smile. “As dense as that fabric pattern is—who would mix florals with geometrics?—I don’t think it’s thick enough to stop a bomb.”
“I’ll leave the decor critique to you, but I’m hoping the plasteel inside will be some protection.” When she blinked at him, he gave her quick grin. “Evens refused to let his beast battalion increase security too much, but we retrofitted some of the odds and ends here to serve defensively.”
“You are so good at this,” she said admiringly. “No wonder my world hired a beast battalion.”
“If we were better, you wouldn’t be here at all,” he pointed out.
She shook her head. “I would be here because I wanted to be.” She paused. “Not here, here, of course.” Her fingers clenched on his wrist. “Ready.”
Together, they lunged for the ugly couch.
They had longer than he would’ve guessed, a couple frantic heartbeats, as he tucked Callie’s head against his chest. A deliberate delay, he suspected, to instill false hope. Oh yes, he would kill Ransey…
Instead of the percussive power he’d feared, the bot went up in a wash of flame—incendiary rather than explosive, meant to destroy a place as well as people. Flaming debris rained around them, sparking secondary fires, sure to spread in just another few heartbeats.
He hauled Callie to her feet, keeping his arm draped around her, his beast half emerging to drape its wing protectively over her. The gryfon might not be as strong as Cross’s wyvryn or fireproof like Sol’s fynix, but it didn’t care; it would char through every feather to save her, even if it never flew again.
With another bang, the bot released a second fountain of fire. Even on an open battlefield, the pyrotechnics would’ve been terrifying. Within the close space of the thrift shop, it was obvious the odds would soon be at an end.
Zenith hauled Callie toward the door. Despite the thick, choking smoke, his beast’s sense of direction was unerring. Unfortunately, the demise of the bot hadn’t released the jam on the door. Not that it mattered, since he’d left his own way through. He spun her toward the broken window where the night wind sucked out the smoke in eerie helixes. He’d have to make sure she didn’t cut herself—
But helping hands were already reaching through the opening, smashing away the remains of the pane and lifting Callie past the jumbled trinkets and treasures that had been staged in the picture window. Shards of gilt-edged glass winked at Zenith through the smoke as he jumped out to join Callie and his team.
She hung limp in Cross’s grasp, gesturing at the shop. “We have to put it out. This place represents the IDA. If it’s destroyed—”
Evens emerged out of the darkness, his limp more pronounced than before. “No. It’s not worth the risk. Let it burn out. Ransey would want me to see the ash.”
Brin, who was facing away from the flames, shook her head. “We can’t have the local fire department or closed-world authorities zooming in, and we don’t have much time. Sol…”
In a flurry of gold, the fynix rose. Though Sol’s beast wasn’t truly impervious to flame, it could withstand more than any of the rest of them. He plunged into the engulfed shop just as the first inhabitants of town were starting to gather, alerted by the boom and the whoosh, no doubt. The wail of the town’s fire suppression vehicle split the night.
Brin stepped forward. “I got this. And I’ll make sure my golden boy doesn’t show off too much.” She glanced at Zenith. “Ah, speaking of showing…”
The gryfon growled possessively as he stalked toward Cross and Callie. “We’re going.”
Wisely, Cross back away, leaving Callie swaying. Zenith wrapped his arm over her shoulder, surprised to find it was an arm and not still a wing. Despite its moment of rebellion, the beast trusted him.
Would Callie ever be able to do the same when he’d almost lost her again?
Chapter 12
As Zenith took her back to his aerie—piloting the hover sled since all the Earthers who were awake were gawking at the remains of the fire as Brin spun her disinformation—Callie leaned against his shoulder so he’d have to keep his arm around her.
Wing or arm, he didn’t let her go.
She’d almost been killed again. Again! It was getting ridiculous. No one even wanted to kill her for herself. No, her attempted murders had been to stop an intraclan trade union and to prevent the many future unions the IDA would hopefully expedite. And she’d just wanted to be part of that.
She bent her nose against Zenith’s shoulder, trying—and failing—to hold back a sniff of self-pity.
“Hey,” he murmured.
“Sorry.” She started to push herself upright, but he kept her close.
“No, I’m sorry. I failed you.”
They had both made mistakes. “I went back to the apartment, but I heard someone downstairs. I thought…” She squeezed her eyes closed but had to confess. “I thought it was you.”
He was silent a moment. “That makes me feel worse. Which is impressive, considering I was almost blown to pieces and then on fire.”
She straightened. “I’m sorry!”
He didn’t let her go. “No, once again, it is for me to apologize. But…maybe no more sorry?”
She nodded against him. “Ransey is here to make everyone sorry.”
“That was his message?”
“Minus the ranting, yes.” She let out a shuddering breath. “When he kidnapped Evens, he intended to summon closed-world authorities then make sure the IDA was closed down forever. He said…he said Evens is a con man, and Farah is a deluded fool. But after your beast battalion rescued Evens, Ransey was infuriated. He said his war bots would force everyone to see that the universe is too dangerous for love.”
“He might not be entirely wrong,” Zenith said. “But seems a little self-serving for an arms dealer, and anyway, he doesn’t get to choose that for everyone else.”
“That’s what I told him.” She sighed. “As he was locking me on top of a bomb. I think I need a ray gun of my own.”
She was done with waiting for anyone else—including him or especially him?—to save her. The realization twisted through her in a knot of shame that it had taken so long and pride in her conviction.
“We can get you a weapon,” he said. “And maybe a personal electrification device so if anyone thinks to grab you, they can have second thoughts.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to never be touched.” Clinging to her newfound courage, she slanted a sly glance at him. “Speaking of touching…”
He took her up to his aerie, stripped her naked, and touched every part of her. “Not hurt?” he rasped, as if all his gentleness was going into his hands roaming her skin.
“I was scared,” she admitted. “Then you came.”
“Should’ve been faster.” The beast growled in his voice, sending a quiver through her. “Shouldn’t have left you at all.”
“You came,” she said again. “You’re here now.”
After the shock and the fire, she should’ve been frozen, curling up into a fearful ball, but his touch and his breath and the way he focused on her made her tremble with need, not cold, and she unfurled to him.
When she opened her arms to him, urging him closer, he crashed into her, falling as if every feather had been scorched off his body, like he was the one who needed comforting. After their last encounter, she knew better what she wanted and what he did, and she put that knowledge to good use, feathering him with her breath, raking him lightly with teeth and nails, boasting with every flex of her muscles that she might not be able to escape an enemy by herself but this she could do well, with him, and for this moment, they were alive and together.
When he finally entered her slowly, so slowly, she darted her head up to nip his lower lip.
He sucked in a harsh breath, his eyes glittering silver-gold. “Callie…” he said in a warning rasp.
“Zenith,” she growled back. “I’m going to actually explode if you wait any longer.” She used the suggestive language of their new home world to urge him, “Come for me again. Make me come for you.”
The sound he made was less a growl than a groan of need. And when he plunged into her this time, it wasn’t to fall but to fly. He caught her up in a whirlwind of sensation where all she could do was hold on tight, her pulse racing, her nerves singing, her whispered words to him a broken nonsense in no known language but somehow he seemed to understand. As he stoked her passion higher and hotter, her rapture overwhelmed her and she let out a shattering cry that would’ve broken windows and destroyed centuries of antiques except there was nothing to hinder her beyond the big sky above them.
And still he was there with her, every thrust urging her onward to another peak, and another, until all that remained was darkness and stars and his body wrapping around hers in his own release.
Slowly, they spiraled down, and this time she welcomed the lingering descent as they caught their breath.
She nestled into him, drawing her knees up to make herself smaller so she could draw him close like a cloak. He stayed bound around her, warm and close as downy feathers but just his bare skin on hers, his soft exhalations another layer of invisible protection against the night breeze.
“I should’ve kept you here,” he murmured into her shorn hair, which somehow managed to be long enough to get mussed by their indulgence. “Then none of today would’ve happened.”
She wriggled her backside into him, part tease, part rebuke. “If I’d stayed up here, I wouldn’t have met Tyler and Brin. Maybe we wouldn’t have gotten Farah to talk to us. It’s possible Ransey would’ve killed someone. And…and I think you wouldn’t have come back to me here right now, would you?”
Though she didn’t look back at him, he tensed behind her, his arm tightening. “I meant to give you space to spread your wings.”
“But I don’t have wings. I had to use the ladder.”
His hold constricted another notch. “You know what I mean.”
She stroked her fingertips across the back of his clenched knuckles until his grip eased. “But you keep Sunny.”
“What?”
Callie twisted around in his arms to face him. “She isn’t a kitty.”
A muscle in his check twitched, like a memory of angry whiskers. “She is. Just…not the tame Earther pet.”
“And you helped her, healed her. But she isn’t meant to live in a cabin.”
