“Put him over the edge,” Arne told her when they heard boots coming up the stairs.

  The woman didn’t stop to argue. She tried to act and not think, knowing the man’s terrified shriek as he plummeted would haunt her dreams. “You owe me years of sleep,” she told him.

  “You can join me,” he replied and gut-shot the second guard. He followed the first man as two more of Silas’ team burst out of the stairwell.

  “And they were the lucky ones,” he told their new opponents, slung his rifle, and drew the broad-bladed sword he’d asked BURT for. With a sigh, Amy did the same.

  She hadn’t been happy to admit she knew how to use the weapon, and Arne made a note to ask her what she’d done before going into protection. While she’d said she wasn’t a killer, he knew there was only one way to find that out.

  He caught a glimpse of her felling a second man with the same clinical precision that she shot with. Whatever it was, it sure as hell wasn’t protection.

  Part of him wanted to think she fought like a Marine, but he knew that wasn’t true. She fought like a demon—and like fighting would drive the demons away. He wasn’t the only one who owed her years of sleep.

  A round drove into his breastplate and he cursed. On a less-advanced piece of armor, that would have seen him dead. As it was, he would bruise like a bitch. I gotta keep my mind on the job.

  They left the wounded bound and bleeding on the roof and took to the stairs. Killing would have been better than what followed, but messy was what was needed.

  “BURT, do you have any soundtracks of someone burning alive?”

  “That is not a standard request, Arne. Why—”

  “Because I’m not a monster and I want to kill these fuckers before they burn, but I need the noise. Do you think you can manage it?”

  “Give me five minutes.”

  “You have until I drag these assholes to the roof and build a pyre.”

  He’d found the petrol in an adjacent garage with chains and tie-downs. It wasn’t pretty but it would do. Amy looked distinctly green.

  “Arne…”

  “Go with it, girl. If we do this, no one will target Elizabeth for a very long time.”

  BURT came through with what he’d requested, and Arne killed the assassins swiftly and without remorse.

  “Get the files,” he ordered once he’d opened the computer and found exactly what they’d planned for Elizabeth and her ex. He didn’t have anything on these guys when it came to sick and twisted.

  Amy took one glance at the files and drew her knife. “Tell me Silas is still alive.”

  “Well, yeah. Someone has to take the message.”

  “Good.” Shortly after, a squeal of pain preceded her return, dragging the would-be crime lord. “Show me a camera. I have a message of my own to send. I am Emerald, after all.” She adjusted her face mask to be sure her features were concealed.

  Her message was short and to the point, but it turned Arne’s stomach and left her retching into a bag. “Was that good enough?” she asked when she was able to speak.

  He nodded and words seemed difficult. “Yup, that should do it.”

  A muffled sob jerked them to alertness, and Arne held a hand up to motion her to stillness. She waited as he crept toward a door tucked behind a bookcase.

  “I thought you cleared this,” he murmured over their comms and she shook her head.

  “I thought you did.”

  “Man, we coulda been so fucked,” he answered and she gave him a shaky laugh and the finger.

  Smiling at her reaction, he eased the door open and was greeted by a desperate scrambling as if someone had seen it open and panicked. He kept his rifle slung and drew the big blade clear as he advanced.

  More movement drew his eye. This time, it was the slightest twitch of a closet door. Soft-stepping across the room, he paused outside the door and listened to the muffled breathing from within. Someone was terrified.

  “Ohgodohgodohgodohgod…” The faintest whisper was picked up by the sensors as clearly as if it had been spoken out loud.

  Using the sound to direct him, he wrenched the door open and was greeted by a startled yelp. Instead of attacking, though, the young man inside curled into a ball with his hands over his head. “I’m sorry…sorry. Tell Silas I didn’t mean it. I’d never have come if I’d known this was his place. Never.”

  The youngster gave another startled yelp as he yanked him out of the cupboard and flung him across the room. The kid’s arms and legs windmilled as he tried to regain his balance, but he thudded into the wall anyway.

  Arne winced at the impact and winced again as the young man bounced off and landed hard. He closed the distance between them in two short strides and dragged the boy to his feet.

  “No! Please…” The kid didn’t try to escape. He merely stiffened, tucked his chin to his chest, and hunched his shoulders. “Please, Silas. I didn’t… I wouldn’t…”

  “I’m not Silas,” he told him gruffly and the kid shivered.

  “Please, let me go. I won’t do it again… I…” Arne’s fist ended the sentence and he slung the boy over his shoulder and carried him out to where Amy waited.

  “But that’s a kid!” she exclaimed when she saw his burden. “And he’s still alive! What gives, Arne?”

  “A case of wrong place at the wrong time,” he told her. “My guess is he broke into the wrong house and hid when he realized what he’d done.”

  “So, not so innocent, then.”

  “No, but he doesn’t deserve to die, either.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “I know a place where he’ll have another chance to get it right.” He paused. “If B doesn’t mind making a detour on the way home?”

  “I can do that,” BURT assured him.

  Amy nodded. “Hey, B, can you fix the footage?”

  “Already done.”

  “And the soundtrack?”

  “Also done. Are you o—"

  “No, B, I’m not. Now shut-up and scan for biologicals.”

  Yeah, definitely not only protection, Arne thought and wondered how much trouble he’d be in if he did a little digging for himself.

  “Why did you tell them you were annoyed?” he asked as the car lifted from the roof, the ruddy glow of a funeral pyre bathing their craft in shades of red and orange.

  “I figured E would play it down,” Amy replied. “That way, they’d worry about what she’d do if she ever got really angry.”

  He gave her a humorless smile. “Nicely played.”

  She nudged the unconscious boy with the toe of her boot. “He can’t be more than eighteen,” she said. “What will you do with him?”

  “He’s closer to fifteen, and it’s better you don’t know. But he’ll be safe and cared for and have another chance at life, which is more than many of us do.”

  “So…why?”

  Arne regarded her bleakly. “Let’s call it penance and leave it at that,” he answered when she had already decided he wouldn’t.

  They fell silent as BURT took the car in a steep dive off the edge of the building and down over the empty street. Amy leaned back in the seat. “I’m glad that’s over,” she said. “Tell me I won’t need to do that again.”

  “I’d like to,” he began and she jerked upright.

  “Are you telling me I did all that for nothing?” she snapped. “All that?”

  She sounded close to tears. He wanted to place a hand on her knee but he knew better. What she probably needed was either a horizontal workout with a very close friend—which he wasn’t, and he wasn’t about to offer—or a good hard workout on the mats…and that he could do.

  BURT set them down in an abandoned lot well away from One R&D. “Your next ride is over there,” he told them. “Arne, your stray is stirring. I have sedatives in the first aid kit under the front seat.”

  He took the hint and put the boy under again. At least this time, he didn’t have to use his fist.

  “The second shuttle will take him wherever you wish him to go.”

  Arne looked around. The lot had been empty when they arrived. The two sky cars descended from nowhere and Amy helped him load the boy into the back of the second one.

  “What?” he asked when he caught her giving him a secretive smile.

  “This,” she gestured toward the car and its comatose passenger. “I’d never have guessed.”

  “It’s not the first time I’ve hidden someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now, come on, we have places to be.”

  She didn’t argue but helped him retrieve the gear from their original vehicle and transfer it to the next in one seamless run. He glanced up as the boy’s vehicle lifted.

  “I have contacted the people you indicated,” BURT told him. “They will be waiting and are aware of what he has been given. They assure me he will be well cared for and tell you not to worry.”

  “Thank you, BURT,” Arne mumbled, then added, “and thank them for me, too.”

  “It is already done,” the AI replied as he closed the doors behind them and lifted into the sky. Their next flight was circuitous but it got them home.

  Neither of them said a word as they headed to the locker room, but as they passed the training room, Arne shoved Amy into a wall.

  “Sonuvabitch! What the fuck was that for?”

  “Because you need to blow off some steam.” He sidestepped her as she came off the wall swinging and she sprawled as he dodged into the training room.

  The sound of metal clearing a scabbard made him wonder if he’d bitten off a little more than he could chew and he closed his helmet and turned to meet her as she came through the door.

  “You know, there are better ways to let your partner know you need a good workout,” she snapped and this time, she wielded the two blades with confidence.

  Arne skipped back as she surged forward and barely drew his own blades before she was on him.

  “Who said it was me who needed the workout?” he retorted and she attacked with a rapid flurry of blows.

  “Why, you arrogant fuck!”

  He spent the next few minutes parrying her attacks before he flung his blades to one side and swung a fist at her head. His knuckles glanced off her helmet and she paused as her head turned toward him.

  “So that’s the way you want it, is it?”

  “I thought it was better than offering you any other means of stress relief.”

  Her response to that was an abrupt bark of laughter. “Let’s dance, old man.”

  Well, at least she hadn’t told him she’d rather be dead.

  They fought until they were both breathing heavily and pushed it a little more. After a good half-hour, they collapsed beside each other.

  “Thanks, old man.”

  “Yeah… No problem, kiddo.”

  She slapped his armored shoulder and used it to lever herself upright. Turning, she offered him her hand. “Are you coming?”

  “Sure. I can’t sleep in this.”

  This time, they both used a change room and emerged fully clad.

  “Do you know where you’re sleeping?” Amy asked as she stowed her armor.

  He shook his head. “I was gonna ask BURT.”

  “I am happy to assist,” the AI informed them and Arne was settled in his own quarters shortly after. The evening had caught up with him and he was so tired he fell asleep shortly after his head hit the pillow, forgetting to ask about Matthias.

  He woke with a start several hours later and took a few minutes to orient himself. Someone had dropped his grab bag inside the door and he frowned. He’d slept deeply enough that he hadn’t heard them arrive or leave.

  “That kind of inattentiveness can get you killed,” he reminded himself and froze with his gaze fixed on the ceiling when BURT’s soft laughter surrounded him.

  “Not in my headquarters, it won’t,” the AI told him. “I am flattered you slept so well. Matthias and Amy are in the dining hall. There is an article of news you should not miss.”

  “Do I have time to shower?”

  “Of course. Don’t be long.”

  Arne hurried, happy to be greeted by the smell of bacon and eggs when he arrived. Amy waved him to the counter. “The food’s over there. Take what you want and come and join us.”

  BURT waited until he was seated with an overloaded plate and a steaming mug of coffee before he activated the viewscreen at the end of the room.

  To his surprise, the AI hadn’t tuned into a regular news program but someone’s private conference call—several someones, in fact.

  “I was able to capture this a short while ago,” he informed them.

  “Silas is gone.” The words cut through and displaced the controlled expressions of those in attendance.

  “But he hadn’t even made the attempt,” one man protested in shocked tones. “He wasn’t even ready.”

  “He intended to move inside the next twenty-four hours,” a woman retorted and was met with looks of surprise. “What? Your networks hadn’t picked that up yet?” She scowled. “Well, mine did. And if mine did, you can be damn sure Emerald’s were more than capable and probably managed it even faster.”

  “The footage only shows two people.” That last voice sounded like it was still in shock. “Two.”

  “Well, when one of them is Emerald, you really don’t need any more.” The answer came back in acerbic tones that suggested they shouldn’t have expected anything else. “She probably brought a bodyguard in case something went wrong.”

  “Huh. It doesn’t sound like her. I thought she operated alone.”

  “She’s head of an entire organization now. Even she knows that brings certain responsibilities. It looks like she’s not as stupid as she looks.”

  “Maybe she simply wasn’t ready when she turned her back on Tex.”

  That statement was met with as sarcastic a “Yuh think?” as even Elizabeth could wish, and Matthias almost choked on his coffee.

  “Did you see what she did to Silas?” That was asked in a horrified whisper and the ripple of nods was accompanied by expressions showing a mixture of distaste, horror, and unease in varying degrees.

  Arne lifted his coffee mug in a silent toast to Amy and smiled. “You did it.”

  She looked ill for a moment before she lifted her cup in return. “Here’s to me never having to do that, again.”

  “I say we give her a chance,” one of the speakers suggested and another snickered in response.

  “Sure thing,” he said. “Like any of us would risk that happening to us.”

  “Do you know where his data ended up?”

  “It’s not with the authorities if that’s what you’re worried about. Emerald’s not a snitch.”

  “We never said she was.”

  “So, it’s agreed, then. We let her run and see how it goes.” It wasn’t really a question but the heads on the conference call nodded anyway.

  “It’s not like we have any choice,” one muttered. “I’m not in a position to take her on.”

  The person who’d initiated the meeting gave a tight-lipped smile. “So we’re all agreed? Emerald stays and none of us dispute her leadership for the moment?”

  After a brief round of agreement, the meeting continued and BURT let the screen fade to a more conventional report where members of the press filmed from the edges of a taped-off street.

  “No one knows what happened here last night, but police were alerted by the sounds of screams.” The report cut to several brief shots taken by a drone that was quickly brought down by a police marksman. “Authorities have declared the building a no-go, no-fly zone, but it looks as if several people were burned alive and more were brutally murdered inside.”

  The camera went to a shot of the road and sidewalk. Both were empty.

  “Residents are understandably shocked that such violence could occur in their quiet neighborhood.”

  “I just bet they are,” Amy muttered as BURT ended the broadcast.

  “So the message was sent successfully,” Matthias concluded. He cocked his head and studied Arne. “Does this mean you’ll wake me up with more nightmares?”

  The man flushed and focused on his breakfast. “It’s unlikely,” he muttered and Amy snorted into her coffee. Neither of them chose to elaborate.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tempestarii.

  Harper had been surprised to hear the super-dreadnought had a name—and that it wasn’t the one in all the textbooks. He didn’t care, though. Of course, he’d looked it up at the first chance he had and laughed out loud.

  A storm witch! It made him love the ship even more.

  When he’d first arrived, he’d expected a relatively normal install. What he’d been given was the challenge of a lifetime. His role wasn’t only to check the wiring in life support or make sure the energy flow to the weapons was smooth and unlikely to be affected by fluctuations in engine power.

  It went far beyond that to what would happen if you were to hook the antenna array into a source of magic and how you could alternate the shields between magical and normal power sources. Not that he’d seen the magical source yet. All he could do was imagine the Witch would use it herself and not even he could work out how that was supposed to work.

  So far, he had his own lab and an unlimited supply of Meligornian batteries to work with. It was techie heaven. The reference made Larkin laugh and Deakin make an unsavory remark about boys who had too many hands for their time.

  Once Harper had worked out that was the Australian’s way of showing he liked him, he was fine, but the remark had set him back initially. The man had finally stood, walked around the mess hall table, and sat beside him.

  “So, kid,” he’d said and ruffled the young man’s hair. “How far have you got?”

  What had followed was the most refreshing conversation he’d had for a very long time, both because the Australian could follow where he went but also because he didn’t beat around the bush.

  If he didn’t like an idea, it was a “fucking stupid thought.” If he did, it was a “fucking brilliant idea.” Harper hadn’t heard the word “fuck” used so often or in so many different ways in his life. It was as if the Australian had adopted it as something that could do everything in language—like a multi-tool.