Rebel Heart (8 page)

He gasped in surprise. "My God, I didn't see you."

"That's the idea," she whispered. Some of the other students had dressed in a similar manner, but none had painted their faces. Bevan wore camouflage pants and a shirt which would have been great in daylight. Even then his cloaking technique wasn't as bad as some of the others.

"Okay, what do we do?" he asked.

"I think you have to move as quickly as possible. Stay in front and wait for me to catch you. If you have to fight, take them out quickly and make sure they know they are dead before moving on."

"I have the marking paint," he told her.

With a smile, Nessa held up hers. "Let's go find out where and when we start." She allowed the adrenalin rush to sweep through her and energize every muscle, bone and cell.

Sensei stood at the top of the falls, an invisible line across the pavement and the only indication where they would begin this race, calling out the names of the first group of four.

"When indicated, this group will start. After that as I read your name, you may begin. Are there any questions?"

He waited.

"Good, then the first group--begin."

After that he slowly read each name. Bevan was in the middle, number twelve. Finally Nessa's name was called.

She was last but she had used the time to watch the other students begin the long descent to the bottom of the canyon. With her name, the first students were passing beneath the first waterfall, the trail protected from the water by the overhanging rock.

Five miles of semi-rugged terrain stretched ahead of her. Already one of the students had slipped from the course, down before he had barely begun. Two participants were engaged in hand-to-hand combat on the trail just past the first water fall--twenty-three left, the others slipping past the combatants.

Nessa set out in an easy jog, pacing herself with the runner in front of her. Her breathing was regular, and she studied the course in front of her.

As she jogged past the bridge, two more were branded with the marking paint--twenty-one to go. If her strategy played out, she would have to fight one person. The night breeze called her name, smelled of evergreen, moss and dirt. Water rushed past her in the little creek that ran between each of the six falls.

An owl hooted above and to the left, a splash in the creek below echoed in the stillness. The frogs began to croak, filling the night with an incredible noise. When she ran she counted to herself. The path rose and some of the leaders began to lag. But there were enough people in front of her she did not have to fight.

On and on it went, mile after mile, her plan seemed to be paying off. By her count there were three ahead of her, including Bevan and the girl who had begun this journey one place ahead of her.

The path rose again, indicating the approach of the north fall. The long steep steps would be a challenge and would slow most down. She'd traversed these so many times. Practice had been her motto. Passing under the overhanging rocks of the last falls, two of the remaining students were battling. Bevan took on the girl running in front of her. She was the fastest remaining.

Trust no one.

Footsteps pounded behind her. Heavy breathing rolled down her back sending a wave of energy throughout. She focused on the steps, taking them two at a time. She wanted to meet her adversary at the top where there was room to fight without the fear of plummeting to the bottom of the falls.

Twenty-two, four, six, eight and...

She reached the top, racing a way from the edge, whirled and met her attacker just one hundred feet in front of the finish line. She might have raced on but didn't dare risk an attack from behind.

Bevan.

She paused, watching him. He was bent over, breathing heavily, eyes dazed as he stared up at her. Kill or be killed. Her arms went up to defend and attack. Nessa moved slowly, waiting for the first move. It came blindingly fast. She ducked and whirled, moved as best she could, surprised by the ferocity of the attack.

Seconds blurred into minutes.

She had not thought or planned this. Her head pounded and sweat dripped, running down her back. Feint, hit, kick, whirl. Move away--move in--defend.

Bevan...

"You’re dead!"

Victoria

Tori pressed the dirt carefully around the fragile white flower, then set the flowerpot on the window ledge. High above the convent grounds she had a three hundred sixty degree view of the forest. Leaning against the cold bricks, she stared at the cloudless sky, watching as a glider sped out of site.

A wisp of hair fell across her eyes. Pain, loneliness, emotions she couldn't afford, feelings she hated curled deep inside. As always, Tori DeMontville willed them away.

Five years had passed since her father had sent her away. She was nineteen now, but even so, the banishment had not cured her of her worst fault, rebelliousness. Her wild, sometimes reckless nature. The rules, the horrid rules, every last one of them were made to be broken. They caused fear and hatred between the people. She wanted peace. Had always wanted peace.

"Cameron Savage."

She'd heard that name before, yet she had never met him. She had heard too that he'd gone to the other side. Arrogant. A rebel. And worst of all a barbarian. Yet he was a man who had transcended all the barriers set up between the different cultures, traveling between both worlds. Now he was a thieftaker.

Her fingers clenched the dirt then loosened. She let her forehead fall against the window. He had touched her and somehow he'd lit a fire within her. She could still feel the heat.

He was a thieftaker and she'd never forget how much she despised him and what he stood for.

She prayed she would never meet him again.

Quentin Morray

Fist hitting wood reverberated around the hot smoke filled room. "Incompetent! All of you. Do I have do everything myself? Nothing was accomplished except our purpose and destination were nearly discovered." Morray paced the room, around the large table where his men sat, looking over the men gathered in front of him, men who he trusted. No longer.

The eight thieftakers shifted uneasily in their chairs, all wary, none intending to take the blame for the fiasco in the forest. Noise filtered through the wall of the room from the bar behind then rose until it seemed all-encompassing. At least no one would be able to hear what transpired here today. Two guards were posted outside the door and five in the surrounding woodland.

"We were able to secure the forest, capture the thieves and their contraband," Garvin, the patient, spoke.

Garvin had once sat in his glider in surveillance mode for over a week before he discovered what he'd been sent after. Hobbling into this very room, he'd handed Morray a tube of the most vile petulant that he'd ever seen. Trusting this man with his life had seemed prudent many times.

"We might have lost so much more. If any of you were competent, I could have had my prize sitting here." Morray stared out at the setting sun and over the forested hills. Everything was bathed in the last golden rays of the sun. His anger grew with the thought that he had come so close to holding Tori as hostage and wife.

"The girl--" Sanders Tatem began, his hand resting on his gun, fingers twitching to use the weapon.

Sanders was always too eager. He rushed through and made mistakes, but he had always been loyal. Loyalty could be bought. A man could be a double agent and be damned good at lying.

"Was a distraction at the time. You should have known Savage would be preoccupied with her. You should have captured both of them. Instead they both got away." Morray drummed his fingers on the table, thinking and searching the faces in front of him. One who sat among friends was a mole. But who?

Thieftakers, Aubrey, Jules and Mason were the newest members of this syndicate. Not only did he now have in his possession a mutant strain of the signe virus, but these men had also managed to acquire money and receipts well over a million dollars in value. Savage knew the plan and had the area cordoned off, but he'd failed to stop the syndicate. Morray didn't want to think about what would have happened if his thieftakers had caught Tori scavenging in the woods.

The thieves stood, hand chained behind their backs, waiting for sentencing. The leader was a tall man with a black mustache. His hair was just beginning to show signs of white around the edges and his eyes were lined with dark sunken circles. He clearly did not like the situation he now found himself in. Wisely, Morray thought, the man refrained from speaking. When his men finished with him, he would talk. By this time tomorrow, he would know so much more and these men would be dead.

"No matter, Savage will be dealt with in time and I will eventually have the girl. She cannot escape me forever. But it is your job to know everything about those you work with." Morray walked around the table, studying each man carefully, sizing each one and memorizing their faces; Tobin, Chad, and Flin. These men had been with him the longest. He needed to know who had betrayed him. When he discovered the truth, that man would lose his hands as well as his tongue. Any man could be bought if the prize was right.

"We didn't know he wasn't a thieftaker," Sanders spoke slowly and accusingly. "No one told us, and he wore the uniform and insignia to show he was in our camp," Sanders said while he nursed his ale and stared accusingly at the thieves lined up against the wall.

"I thought he was one of us too. And where does Reese fit into this picture? He's a senator, by god. What's he doing chasing around in the woods when he should be in the city voting on laws? I'll bet he's looking to make a hero out of himself. A fat lot of good it's going to do him when he turns up dead." Garvin bit into a piece of red meat then broke off a hunk of bread and dipped into the gravy.

"It was a need to know basis. As for Reese, he is merely a nuisance to be discarded later. He will never get anything accomplished in the Senate. He's too much of a dandy--afraid to get his hands dirty." Morray despised Reese, who disagreed with everything he did. It seemed to Morray, Reese was always there to block him. Reese would fight him for possession of Tori. From something Reese had said once... Well, he thought perhaps DeMontville was hiding a paper, one that the old man had planned for the girls to be taken care of in case of his death. Morray smiled, remembering DeMontville's death.

Morray thrashed his hands in the air. "None of this matters now. It is done, finished. We have to take them unaware. It's all about Tori, always has been. When the girls return to the city--"

"DeMontville's brats? Are we speaking of them again? They are insignificant little twits," Garvin said.

"I have plans for Victoria, the heir to the labs, the research and the DeMontville fortune." She would make a lovely wife. However, she might not agree. Forcing her will most likely become necessary. I will bring the high priestess Janellen when I arrive there. She can marry us right away and I will secure the building for my own."

"Steal her lab?"

Morray felt a moment's calm. Tori would be home soon, home from the convent her father had sent her too. Finding the hideaway had taken too long to implement a plan. DeMontville had left the monastery heavily guarded. His life might have been in jeopardy if he moved too soon.

"Marry into it, sounds a lot more peaceful." Morray strode to the window, hands clasped behind his back. He would have to be careful. He needed a respectable ally. Someone beyond reproach.

"You will need help."

"That is where all of you come into the picture. I would have your ears and eyes. I need to know everything that is happening in the city, the senate, the country. Go, let me know who will back me." He knew there were people. Sheridan would want the research to continue. And Victoria did not have a sterile reputation for rational thought and she would not be easy to manipulate. Perhaps her stint in the monastery had taught her obedience.

He thought back on that day in the forest when she and her sister had shown up out of nowhere. He hadn't seen her since she was a toddler. He'd been struck by her rare beauty and courage and her rebelliousness. A trait he would not tolerate in a marriage. Her twin was just as beautiful and would have made a much more biddable wife. Too bad Vanessa DeMontville had the bad misfortune to be born ten minutes after Victoria.

Vanessa was not the heir.

He still hadn't located Nessa. Where could she be? He had searched every monastery on the west coast. Nothing. DeMontville had been clever in hiding Nessa and Tori as well. If he hadn't seen her two days ago in the forest he would not have believed his spies.