Honor Among Thieves (The Honors #1)(83)
“Psia krew!” I’d heard that swear in the Zone. Still Marko sounded weary more than offended.
First he tried to get EMITU working, but Bea had hacked it good. Now he sounded legit worried. Playing possum took incredible self-control when I wanted—needed—to see what was going on.
Eventually, Marko lifted me and carried me toward their Hopper. Yes. I’m on my way. I made sure I was dead weight in his arms and that spurred him to careless haste. Once he deposited me in the passenger seat and strapped me in, I risked a look through my lashes. Marko checked the instruments with a scowl; he looked way older than he had that day he’d pulled me out of Camp Kuna, with all the girls sighing over him. He looked ragged and tired and ill. And yes, I felt sorry for him too. For being bonded to a bastard like Typhon, for being caught like an animal in a snare. And most of all, for the way I was about to play him.
I let him take off and fly back to the Elder Leviathan. My timing had to be perfect. There might be signals I didn’t know about and Typhon would probably realize the instant I made a move. If he knew, Chao-Xing would also. They were both deep-bonded, distinct frequencies, but similar strength. Pilot and starsinger, like me and Beatriz.
The second we landed, I saw the difference. Although it had a similar design, Typhon’s docking bay was bigger than Nadim’s—with curves you wouldn’t find in a mechanical craft like the ribs inside of a whale. It almost looked like an organic cathedral. I took a good look at the arched ceiling with its cut ridges. There were no teeth, but fangs wouldn’t have surprised me, either. Chills broke out as Marko opened the Hopper doors. The walls were tinted grayish-white, which might have been a sign of age or an aesthetic choice, but the space gave off an institutional vibe. The lighting inside was harsh, a fluorescent glow that stung my eyes.
Marko retrieved me and slung me over one shoulder; not the most careful handling. If I’d had spinal damage, I might have never walked again, but his proximity to Typhon chilled his humanity, his empathy, and I became a female-shaped problem instead of a person.
As we reached the internal docking entrance, I pulled the stunner I’d concealed inside my uniform. Considering how exhausted he looked, I didn’t expect Marko to move quickly, but he blocked the hit and twisted my wrist so hard that I dropped the weapon. He tried to wheel me in for a behind-the-back arm lock, a move they’d used to subdue me at various rehabs, so I was wise to it. I dipped my shoulder, tucked my arm close to my side, and surprised him by spinning toward him with my other hand, striking his solar plexus hard enough to steal his breath.
“What’re you trying to accomplish?” Marko wheezed.
“Saving Nadim.” I grabbed the stunner off the floor and fired, and he went down hard. Out.
Diving past him, I rolled clear before I got locked in. I made it, barely, though the heavy doors caught my foot. When I pulled free, I lost a layer of skin and would have a deep bruise. They couldn’t vent the hangar bay with Marko on the other side, so I had a little freedom. For now.
Or so I thought.
As I oriented myself, a rosy mist puffed down all around me. It smelled like bitter chalk. Almost immediately, my eyes blurred, my knees weakening. “Damn you, Chao-Xing.”
“Told that idiot you were faking. Want to know a secret, xiao Zara? I was just like you once.” The last thing I heard was her mocking laughter.
However long later, I woke in lockup, a five-by-five cell with a blanket and a bucket. Nadim didn’t have holding cells, and there were lockers on the other side, so this was probably a storage room. A blue, shimmering force field prevented me from moving farther. Both Marko and Chao-Xing stood before me in their bloodred uniforms. Their eyes were black again, full of Typhon’s presence.
I played my part to the hilt. No point in pretending to be innocent, and nothing gained by cowering. Bravado was more my style.
“Hey,” I said. “How’s it going?”
Staring into Chao-Xing’s eyes was like falling into an abyss. No, like getting a glimpse of Typhon’s soul. A shiver trembled through me, and even through the nu-silk fabric of my blue uniform I felt the chill. It was cold in here. Colder by far than Nadim kept our environment. I suspected the cold was comfortable for Typhon or he just didn’t care and kept it at the bare minimum that optimized the performance of his Honors. I could almost see my breath in the air.
Bravado didn’t seem to work, so screw them, I wouldn’t speak again. If they’d come to interrogate me, they could get on with it. On impulse, I brushed my fingertips over the wall—Typhon’s skin—and got an icy shock. He didn’t want me here. Well, that made two of us. Since I didn’t like his dismissive power play, I pushed a little harder, and a shock baton fried my brain as he rejected my attempt at contact. Forcefully.
“Zara,” Marko said finally.
Just my name, in a tone ominous enough that I imagined him intoning it at my funeral. We are sorry to inform you that Zara Cole was lost in deep space. America mourns.
Somehow I twisted that dread into defiance. “It’s freezing in here. Got a blanket? Or a shot of tequila. I’m fine either way.”
Marko, impatient, said, “Tell us what you were trying to accomplish with this stunt.”
“Your ship beat the hell out of mine. And now you’re towing us God knows where. Don’t you think I ought to do something? Anything! You’re not exactly reassuring us that everything will be okay.”