Nightborn
Page 35“That reminds me,” she said, cutting him off. “Where exactly are your men, tresora? Don’t say out on the dock, because if they were, I’d sense it.”
Benetta’s smile slipped. “You are mistaken, my lady. Perhaps the loss of blood has weakened you.”
“Wearing all that cologne so we couldn’t smell you lying wasn’t bad, but your research?” She made a chiding sound. “Sloppy, sloppy.”
“Who sent you?” Korvel demanded. “Ramas?”
“Ramas is an old fool. Eternity is my master,” he said in old, flawless Latin. “Soon you and your kind will be dust beneath his feet.” He lifted a hand, clenching it into a fist that he touched to the center of his chest. “So have we sworn.”
“Your master has sent you to your death,” Korvel told him. “Give me his name, and I will spare you.”
“I will tell you who he is.” The animation left Benetta’s features and his eyes went flat as he reached into his jacket. Under the placket a weapon bulged. “When I see you in hell.”
“No.” Nicola lunged over Gabriel, trying to shield him with her body.
Korvel put himself between Simone and Benetta as gunfire shattered the air. The Italian collapsed, his legs twitching several times before they stilled. His face went slack as blood slowly seeped out from under his body.
Korvel bent down to check for a pulse and then rolled the dead man over onto his side. The gun Benetta had turned on himself had blown a fist-size exit wound through his back; the remains of his heart lay spattered across the wall behind him.
“Jesus Christ,” Nicola said, staring at the corpse. “What kind of oath of loyalty do you make these guys take, anyway?”
“He did not serve the Kyn,” Gabriel said.
Korvel searched through the dead man’s pockets, but all he produced was a money clip stuffed with euros and an extra clip for the weapon. “He came knowing he might die. He may have been an infiltrator.”
Gabriel braced himself against the desk. “Why would the council send one of their assassins after us?”
“Not us,” Nicola said. “The scroll. He even brought a carrying case for it.”
“He does not serve the council, or Ramas.” Simone pushed herself off the pallet and staggered toward Korvel, bracing herself against him as he caught her.
Nicola’s expression turned skeptical. “And you know this how?”
He smelled blood, and found a wet patch of it on the back of her head. “You’re bleeding.” He swung her up into his arms.
“I have to go after him. The translation.” She gripped the front of his shirt. “You don’t understand. He will lead them to the cross.”
“Lead who?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “I translated the scroll, Simone. Cristophe inscribed it only with some psalms from the Bible, nothing more. What is this cross, and how can a few prayers be used to find it?”
“Benetta won’t be the only one. When Pájaro leaves the country, they’ll follow him to it.” She struggled to focus on his face. “Korvel, please. It’s why they ordered me to kill you. So Tremayne wouldn’t find it.”
Nicola sat up. “What did she just say?”
“She’s delirious.” He carried her back to the pallet, placing her with her back to him so he could examine her head wound. The gash on her scalp was wide enough to be bleeding freely, and he reopened the wound on his wrist.
She flinched as she felt his blood against her skin. “Couldn’t hurt you,” she murmured, her voice indistinct. “Never kill…”
“I know, love.” He pulled the blanket over her and waited until she drifted off before he went back to Benetta’s body. He tipped back the dead man’s head and peered into his nostrils. “He has metal plugs embedded in each nasal passage.”
“I thought tresori didn’t have to worry about being zonked by l’attrait,” Nicola said.
“Most of them don’t.” Korvel pulled back Benetta’s sleeve to reveal a black cameo tattoo. Unlike the council pin he wore on his lapel, the center of the inked cameo did not contain a rose. Only recessed scar tissue filled its center, as if the image of the rose had been hacked out of his flesh. “Lord Seran, have you ever seen a tresora mutilated like this?”
“No.” Gabriel gave him a troubled look. “Never.”
Chapter 16
D
reams came to Simone, thin ghost worlds of what had been, but she hid from them until they passed. On some level she felt the waking world around her, her body being carried, cradled, cared for by strong hands with the gentlest touch. Korvel.She wanted to wake, to tell him how sorry she was, but her failure chained her to the darkness, hiding her from him.
Something pressed in, a presence unfamiliar to her. It moved easily, parting the curtains of her misery and peering in at her. Simone caught a glimpse of white curls, and realized it was someone from the ship, the one with the sharp tongue. She wore leather as if it were silk, and stood with her hands tucked in her back pockets as she inspected the nothingness.
She curled up tighter. “I’m not your sister.”
“We’ll tell everyone that you were adopted.” She sat down beside her and held out a hand. “During all that shooting we didn’t get a chance for introductions. I’m Nick, or Nick’s subconscious, or whatever.”
Simone buried her face in her arms. “Please leave me alone.”
“Haven’t you had enough of that?” Nick scooted around in front of her. “Tell you what. Give me five minutes, and then I’ll get out of your hair and you can sulk for the rest of eternity.”
Anger jerked her upright. “I’m not sulking.”
“That’s better.” Bright eyes studied her. “I know you. This is something the awake me won’t process right away, mainly because my guy is hurt and I blame you for that, and for saying you were supposed to kill Korvel, et cetera. I’ve also got my own shit to deal with shortly. But on this level I know who you are. Here we’re cool.”
Nick snapped her fingers, and a television screen with a fuzzy picture appeared behind her. On it Simone watched herself dueling with an older boy.
“No.” When Nick didn’t listen, Simone jammed her fists against her eyes. “Turn it off.”
“Want to see mine?” She snapped her fingers again, and a second television screen appeared. “We’ll keep it on mute. You’ll thank me later.”
On this one Simone saw a naked blond woman with a terrible wound across her face tearing into Nick’s throat with her teeth.
“Wait for it.” Nick glanced over her shoulder, and the screen changed to show her hands clawing away at the dirt as she dug her way out of the ground. “Bingo.”
Simone cringed, but she couldn’t stop watching the image of Nick sobbing as she dragged herself out of the shallow grave to stumble toward a farmhouse.
“By that point I was screaming,” Nick told her. “I locked myself in my bedroom and I crawled under the bed and I kept screaming. All. Night.”
“How did you survive that?” Simone whispered.
“I decided to get me some well-earned revenge. I went to find the evil bitch who did that to me and rip her fucking heart out.” Nick cocked her head. “You, on the other hand, became a nun. How’s that working for you?”
“I’m not a nun.” She hunched her shoulders. “I don’t want revenge.”
Simone stared blankly at her hands. “I was supposed to kill the boys he made me fight. I could never do it. I don’t know why. When I was little I wanted to—I knew I had to—but when the moment came?” She shook her head. “It all ends with me now. I made sure of it.”
Nick reached out and took hold of her hand. “What happened to your brothers?”
“When they failed and I would not kill them, my father had them taken away. I never saw any of them again.” She took a deep breath. “I think he murdered them. Pájaro was the only one who escaped.”
Nick stood up, bringing Simone to her feet. “You’re not a killer, but you’re not a quitter. Like you said, it all ends with you. You have to finish this.”
“I can’t.”
“Yeah, but you will anyway. For him.” Nick gave her a rough hug. “See you in the real world, sister.”
Nick winked out of existence, leaving Simone alone again in the dark. The shame that had trapped her had gone as well, and while she could still feel it, lurking somewhere close, it had lost the power to keep her here.
Simone reached out with her thoughts and her hand and touched cool, hard muscle. “Korvel.”
“I’m here, love.”
Simone opened her eyes to see the sun setting over the city. She sat on Korvel’s lap on the window bench, a soft coverlet swaddled around her.
His blue-purple eyes searched her face. “How does your head feel?”
“It doesn’t hurt.” She touched the back of it before she looked around the flat, expecting to see Nick scowling at her. “Where are the others?”
“They will return in a few hours.” When she shifted away he kept his arms around her. “I know the scroll is a hoax. I translated the code into six psalms, all of which can be read from virtually any copy of the Bible in the world. What I don’t understand is why. Why create the myth about the elixir?” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">