Hunted Warrior (28 page)

“You'll help me rescue Hark?”

“That shouldn't sound like a question, because there is no question about it.”

“What if Hark . . . ?”

“Orla, you have to trust me again. I would tell you if I knew. I would do you that mercy, even if it felt like a cruelty.”

And I would fight fate no matter what.

She had accused Mal of being resigned to his role as Giva, never giving of himself as much as he could. Had she been doing the same? Was it possible . . . just
possible
 . . . that she could change her visions? She had been trapped for so long with Dr. Aster that seeing the outcome of a pregnancy had been her only guidepost—the signs of
any
future. What if life with him had taught her not to hope for anything better? Had she ever truly rebelled against the future?

More resolved than ever, she embraced Orla again. Avyi drew strength from the rightness of fitting two pieces back together. “But how did you know your name, before this? Avyi. Did you remember it from so long ago?”

“No,” Avyi said with a shake of her head. She glanced toward where Mal had stood, gathering their weapons and possessions. “I was still the Pet. He named me.”

Orla tilted her head in that way Avyi remembered from the days when Silence was her only name—a woman who never spoke. “What does it mean?”

“In the Tigony language, it means dawn. East.” Despite his slight smile, he appeared haunted and struggling, as unnerved by all of this as she and Orla. But he was stronger now than she'd ever seen. Certainty looked so very right on the man intended to lead them all. Her heart swelled until she couldn't breathe for pride. “It also means new beginnings.”

Tears filled Avyi's eyes. He said he might tell her one day. He didn't say that it would hit straight to the heart of her, fulfilling every wish she could have for the name she would bear with pride and love for the rest of her life.

“I thought it was meant for Avyi alone,” he said. “Now it's for all of us.”

CHAPTER

M
al was tired of being on the back foot. Really tired of it. He had a lover, his lover had a sister, and that sister's bonded mate was going to be killed. Or was he? Avyi didn't know for sure, which meant Mal erred on the side of being able to do something for Hark. It was time to stop reading runes. It was time for action.

He called the only person on the Council he could trust, his adoptive grandmother, Hobik. Within twenty-four hours, she'd procured fake papers for Avyi and plane tickets to London. She'd also arranged for a collection of weapons to be packaged as antiques, including the Dragon-forged sword, to be held in the belly of the passenger jet. Mal didn't ask for particulars. He didn't want to know how the cagey old woman had managed.

She was the only person yet living who knew the truth about Mal's behavior at Bakkhos. That she accepted his failings while lauding the changes he'd made to Tigony culture—for the better—was the reassurance he needed. She didn't think he was a saint. But she'd always believed what he was only now taking into his own skin, and breathing with his own lungs. His temper had fueled the destruction of Bakkhos, but countless others would've been destroyed had he refrained. The Tigony would still be hiding and perpetuating the last terrible secret of their clan.

He and Avyi disembarked from the plane, with Orla following close behind. Security at Heathrow was its usual mess. Three large planes had landed in close succession, from Mexico, India, and the United States. Avyi was bouncing on her heels while they waited to pass through customs, while Orla had pulled deeply within herself. Silence. He'd only ever met her in passing, there at the liberation of the labs, but the name suited her uncommonly well.

Hark could be anywhere, but the Townsend cartel was the obvious place to start. They controlled the Cage warriors of Europe and North Africa, with the Kawashimas claiming domain over East Asia. The Asters practically owned the western hemisphere and any place where a slight toehold meant an avenue toward more power. They needed to be destroyed.

Mal had stood by for too long, working through the politics of the Council, relying on the idea that a solution would produce itself without effort beyond arguing with the other clans' representatives. In truth, he'd been the same spoiled brat as always, and the same fool who'd fallen into an ancient trap. He blamed the world—but mostly himself—for the tragedy that followed.

He glanced down at Avyi. She was the change he'd needed.

Perspective. Vision.

He didn't just mean the ability to predict the future. Her strange optimism and childlike faith were the flip side of his jaded apathy. Together they made for an interesting team.

Interesting.

The word was so insipid as to be insulting. He wanted her. More and more. That their stolen night in the bed-and-breakfast hadn't been the vision she'd pictured for their future actually lifted his spirits. It meant they would be together again. No telling when. How far into the future? How long would they know one another before the future spread out before them, undefined?

What would they do then?

Mal cleared his throat. The security officials checked their passports, including Avyi's doctored papers. Everything in order. Even their weapons, crated and safely delivered, were stacked among the oversize luggage. He glanced around the baggage claim, where several hundred human beings hurried on their way.

None of them had any idea of the cataclysmic events happening all around them. There was nothing they could do, nothing they would know to do. The cultures established by the Five Clans would continue as if their originators had never existed. What would the world look like without the influence of the Dragon Kings? What would the world become without them?

Mal hoped it wasn't a world for the better. He needed to know his people were a force for good. He would make it so.

He snorted under his breath. Avyi pulled her luggage alongside him and shot him an assessing look. “What was that for?”

“I'm thinking more like you than I want to.”

“Do you believe in the Dragon yet?”

“Avyi, don't.”

She shrugged. Some of that feline grace had returned to her poised movements—part teasing, part defensive mechanism. “I'm not worried. You will, Mal. Or we'll all be dead. Either way.”

“Now you're a fatalist?”

“No,” she said simply. “I've never been a fatalist or an optimist. Otherwise all those unborn children would've driven me crazy. Seeing the ones who would live. Seeing the ones who would never survive. They just were. That was the only way I could manage. That's the only way we'll get through the next few days. It just is.” She glanced to the side. “Except for Hark and Cadmin. I'm insisting that the Dragon make a few special cases.”

Silence was almost motionless now, in her features and her expressions. She'd turned off everything. Despite that, Avyi was not discouraged by having her newly revealed sister turn into a stony-faced warrior. Maybe that was because Silence was a Dragon-damned impressive warrior. Even there in the airport, she radiated violence and the confidence of a woman ready to rip off limbs.

“To Battersea,” Mal said firmly.

Avyi tilted her head. “Not the Townsend complex?”

“We're taking the offensive. I happen to know that the Townsends have already encamped their Cage warriors in cells beneath Battersea.”

His fey, raven-haired woman smiled like a conspirator.

His woman?
Dragon save us both.

“You ‘happen to know'?”

Mal smiled without mirth. “It's good to be Giva.”

“That's new.”

They crossed town in a limo and found a hotel near the power station, which was now defunct and crumbling, held aloft by various investors and its status as a protected monument. Mal unpacked their weapons. They'd wait until night, only a few hours off. Silence seemed on edge, despite her composed nature. The energy shimmering out from her skin was practically strong enough to fuel Mal's gift. She was lit dynamite.

“Can you tell us anything?” Avyi asked, while they stood looking out the suite's window toward Battersea. “Find a telepath? Anything?”

“No, but I plan to.” It was the first she'd spoken since leaving Florence. “You two rest or . . .” She shook her head. “Stay here. I'm going for a walk. If there are Dragon Kings in cells, I'll know. I'll find out how many, which clans, how strong—the recon we need before suiting up for nightfall.”

Mal caught up as she walked away. She flicked her gaze down to where his hand enveloped her upper arm. “Just recon. Not engagement. We have enough to do without needing to rescue you, too.”

Orla became Silence once again, with a single smile. It was a cold smile, one made of the hunger for blood and revenge. “Who says I'll need rescuing?”

In clothing that nearly matched Avyi's militaristic style, they looked more alike than ever—lithe, pale, graceful. Silence was tall and so very blond, while Avyi was petite with that trademark raven-dark hair. But the resemblance between the half sisters was otherwise remarkable. Mal wondered why no one had ever made the connection before.

“Silence,” he called to the departing woman. “Stay true to that name. Think like a warrior, not a lover. Information first, then action. Hark is dead or he's not. Don't make the mistake of taking on anyone by yourself. You came for us in Florence for a reason.”

The woman paled. Then she swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Giva.”

She'd used the title dismissively before. Now, the word was infused with respect. He fed off the surprising shift in tone and knew she would obey his instructions.

She bid her shorter sister good-bye with a swift kiss to Avyi's crown. She was dressed in black, weaponless, and fierce. Then she was gone, with the door closed behind her.

Silence had called him
Giva
and had meant it. But to become the leader they all needed, he had to tell Avyi the secret that plagued him. If she still chose to follow him after learning the truth, then he was the man worth claiming the mantle of the Honorable Giva.

“Avyi.”

He opened his arms and enveloped her in an embrace that stabbed unexpected pain in his chest. He'd never felt compelled to open himself so fully. Now he risked losing her forever, when her esteem was the most important thing he'd come to value. But he deserved no one's respect or affection if he lied for the rest of his life, even by omission. And he very much wanted the respect and affection she seemed eager to bestow—a lost girl grown into a woman who craved love. He didn't believe in love enough to give her what she needed, but at least he could be strong enough to admit his wrongs.

“There's something I need to tell you.”

*  *  *

Avyi's heart tightened on a stuttering rhythm, then picked up at double speed. She couldn't breathe, although she couldn't say why. Orla would be fine. She was too skilled and clever not to be. She'd return in a few hours with information vital to any rescue attempt. The source of her consternation wasn't her sister but the man who held her. He was so tense, so distant—and all so suddenly. Whatever had come over him was a swift-moving storm that rivaled his gift in its power.

As if she might find answers before he spoke, she searched her visions and predictions for anything that hinted at this moment. Mal was holding her, and he was at war with himself. Was this the new beginning he'd offered her by name, or some terror yet to be unleashed?

She stepped away. Dr. Aster's occasional embrace had made her feel equally wary. That she could find anything comparable between Mal and the doctor added another dose of nausea to her roiling stomach.

“Then tell me,” she said simply.

Mal turned away, with his blue eyes on the power station that loomed outside their hotel window. So near, yet with so many unknowns. Just like Mal. There was no stopping this version of him. Whatever decision he'd made was what he would do.