Fated Blades (Kinsmen #3)(21)

Another sonic boom shook the walls.

She slammed the doors open and leaped into the hallway. The fire team was on her left, one soldier’s back to her, the other facing her, as the gunner frantically tried to reposition the cannon. She cut through them like a tornado of razor-sharp blades. Three bodies fell apart, bleeding onto the floor.

Behind her Matias emerged from the doorway, his face grim. Blood dripped from his scalp, painting a crimson line on the side of his face.

She opened her mouth and realized she tasted her own blood on her tongue. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll live,” he growled and turned right.

They jogged forward. Her back hurt, every step sending a fresh wave of pain through her hips. The world was slightly fuzzy.

An ornate double door blocked their way. Matias didn’t bother slowing down. Seco flashed with crimson. He kicked, and half of the door crashed to the floor, sliced free of its mounting. Two energy rifles barked in unison. He shifted to shields and charged. She lunged through the door right behind him.

Two Vandals, one on the left, by the couch, one on the right, next to an ornamental chair. She threw her shields up, two long rectangles stretching from her head to her knees, and rushed the one on the right, ripping through the pain like it was a wall in her way.

Soldiers were trained to shoot center mass. It was a remarkably difficult habit to break, especially in the stress of combat. The soldier in front of her was no exception. He’d aimed at her chest and pulled the trigger. The energy rifle spat a burst of glowing projectiles. They sank dead center into her seco shields, harmlessly melting into the force field.

She shifted the right seco into a modified scythe and sliced him from his right shoulder diagonally down, through the clavicle and shoulder blade, through his chest, through the heart, all the way to the sixth rib on the other side.

The top half of what used to be a human slid to the floor.

She used this type of strike as psychological warfare. Cutting someone in half was unexpected and visceral, an overkill nobody could ignore. It also guaranteed instant death. The target didn’t suffer. Most of the time they died before they realized what was happening.

Ramona turned. At the other end of the room, Matias dismissed his seco sword, and the Vandal impaled on it collapsed. To her right, Senator Drewery rose slowly from behind a massive desk carved from a huge chunk of ivory.

They were in a large room. Ornate furniture occupied most of the floor, two couches and a handful of chairs resting on a black-and-gold rug. Shelves of polished black wood lined the walls, supporting an array of expensive trinkets: priceless ceramics, awards of glass and metal, congratulatory plaques, centuries-old technological artifacts, and alien insects preserved in amber and crystal. Hand-painted portraits decorated the walls between the shelves. An older couple she didn’t recognize; young Senator Drewery and his wife; older senator, his wife, and young Cassida; and finally, present-day senator, a broad-shouldered, large man with a leonine mane of silver hair contrasting with his deep tan and bold masculine features, standing next to a bookshelf filled with antique appliances from the First Wave.

This had to be Drewery’s office. The entire perimeter of the room was one giant I-love-me wall.

The senator drew himself to his full height. He walked around the desk, picked up a heavy crystal decanter, and poured a golden liquor into two glasses. She noted the slight tremor in his hand. Her demonstration had had its desired effect.

“You surprise me, Matias. I didn’t expect you until Wednesday.”

He had a good voice, a reassuring male baritone, and he spoke with the smoothness of a practiced orator.

Matias stalked around the couch. She saw his eyes, frosted over and dark, and fought an urge to step back.

“Today has been full of surprises,” Matias said.

Drewery set the decanter down. Only two glasses, not three. Ha.

“I see you brought hired help,” the senator said.

So, he decided to bet on their animosity. Pit her and Matias against each other, then divide and conquer.

Ramona circled the body bleeding onto the plush rug and sat on the pale sofa, throwing one leg over the other. Everything hurt.

“Where is my wife?” Matias asked.

Drewery picked up a glass and sipped, looking out the window. “I had such high hopes for you, Matias. You seem to have all the right ingredients: intelligence, discipline, a capacity for strategic thinking, a good pedigree, and a background free of catastrophic sins. You lack in charm, but charm can be developed. With the proper coaching we could’ve made a provincial senator out of you, at least. Yet here we are.”

Matias, a provincial senator? She laughed.

Drewery ignored her. “Do you know what your problem is, Matias?”

Matias looked at him, impassive.

“You have no vision. All you want to do is to run your little family business. This province is the limit of your ambitions. My daughter tried so hard to push you to superior heights, but your inertia is simply too great. You will never soar.”

“You soared and landed in bed with the child killers,” Matias said.

Something was off. She’d seen the extent of Matias’s anger. She had expected to have to hold him back once they found Drewery, but now he appeared almost passive. There was no heat in his accusation. He seemed distracted.

Was he stalling for time? Why? A delay made reinforcements more likely. It worked to Drewery’s advantage, and the senator wasn’t dumb enough to miss the opportunity, which was why he’d launched into this ridiculous speech.