Shadow Fall (The Shadow Saga) (3 page)

She thought to win back the affection of a man, but instead found herself resorting to old tricks, using her body as a weapon to get what she wanted.

Even so, she had failed. 301 was not the same. He had always been a complicated man, but there seemed to be something deeper about him now, as though there was a part of him she just couldn’t reach. Perhaps she made her move too late. He had fallen in love with another woman—a slave, no less. Since then she had tried everything to win him back, to no avail.

He loved that woman, despite what he tried to tell her. A woman always knew—it was in the eyes, in the vacant expression. And every time Liz saw it she knew that even if she gained power over 301’s body, Grace Sawyer would always have his heart.

She felt the warmth of his body next to her, and turned to gaze at him. He slept soundly, at least for now. The past two nights he had woken in a cold sweat from some nightmare, though he would never tell her what it was about. She often wondered with a hint of jealously if he dreamed of Grace Sawyer.

The thought of him pining after another woman while next to her—while in her arms—made that empty pit in her stomach that much harder to bear. What did Grace Sawyer have that she didn’t? Was it that midnight hair, those mysterious and guarded eyes—or perhaps the illusion she presented as the damsel in distress?

An answer came unbidden to her mind:
She has a heart. You lost yours long ago.
Her throat constricted and her eyes moistened, but she fought back the emotions before they could reach the surface. If she had to give her heart in order to receive one in return, she would rather be alone. The men in her life had only known how to grind a woman’s heart into dust, and so it was best to keep that heart buried. But she had kept it buried so long and so deep that she didn’t know if she would ever be able to find it again.

She blamed the Capital Orphanage. They trained her to be a cold and calculating warrior—to use everything she possessed to advance her own fortune and power. Beauty was the most valuable of those possessions, and she wielded it every bit as well as 301 wielded a sword. Her body was yet another weapon in her arsenal, and over the years it had proven to be a much more potent advantage than any blade or firearm she could carry. But eventually such tactics take their toll, and rarely a day went by when she didn’t desire to feel…loved. It had been so long since she felt that—if she had felt it then at all.

Her earphone beeped on the side table next to her, and her heart pounded with dread. She reached for the wrist device to see who it was, and her fears were confirmed: a blocked call, which could mean only one thing. She retrieved the earpiece, put it in, and turned her head away from 301 as she pressed receive. Then she whispered, “Specter Aurora…go ahead.”

“Separation priority message,” an automated voice replied. “Aurora, Elizabeth. Execute Evacuation Protocol B. Repeat, execute Evacuation Protocol B. Extraction in thirty minutes.” The line died, and Liz froze. The consequences of her deal with Sullivan were now to be reaped, in the contingency he had assured would never come to pass. She wanted what he offered her more than anything. All he asked, in addition to the pound of her own flesh she had already given, was one final sacrifice.

A sacrifice she didn’t know if she could make.

Trying not to think too hard about what she had to do, Liz leaned over the side of the bed and reached to where 301’s weapons belt lay, thrown haphazardly on the floor the previous night. Her hand closed around the nearest weapon—his battle knife—and she raised herself back up, shifting to face him as he continued to sleep. With her free arm she lifted her upper body and came to rest against him, feeling the direct warmth of his skin on hers.

She held the knife above him and gritted her teeth in anticipation of the plunge.

But she hesitated for one moment, and then two. The tip of the knife came to rest against 301’s neck, and she willed herself to do what must be done. What was 301 to her anyway? Just another man who had taken advantage of her…who had
used
her. And only after he had spurned her affections in favor of another…a woman she could never replace.

Even summoning her anger was not enough, and her hand began to shake as her will fought against her conscience. There was still a part of her, despite everything, that cared for him. She could not kill him.

At almost the very same moment she made her decision, 301’s eyes snapped open and his body tensed as he stared at her—and then the knife—with astonishment. “Liz? What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry, 301,” she said with sincerity, and slammed the butt of the knife into his temple, sending him back into a forced slumber.

She stabbed the sharp end of his knife into the side table and stepped out of bed, gathering her clothes from around the room. She dressed quickly, then walked around to the side of the bed where 301 lay. She knelt over him as she fastened her weapons belt, and brushed his lips lightly with her own one final time.

“Goodbye,” she whispered.

Liz straightened and walked away, pausing for a few seconds to look back at him from the doorway before leaving the suite.

The hallway was deserted—not surprising, given that it was barely past sunrise. Her comrades should still be asleep. She stopped in front of the elevator and pressed
up
. Quick movement to her left made her reach instinctively for her Gladius, but for the moment she refrained. Without turning to look, she recognized Derek Blaine’s arrogant stride. What was he doing there? Did he know, somehow?

Blaine stopped at 301’s door, about halfway down the hall from her position, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Of course. He was just coming to meet his partner. She chanced a look at him, knowing his eyes were already on her. Blaine smirked knowingly, as though catching her making the walk of shame. Then he knocked on 301’s door.

Liz pressed
up
again, her heart rate increasing with the anticipation. 301 lay unconscious. He would not come to the door. How long before Derek forced his way in and found her out?

“301!” Derek knocked again, a trace of concern in his voice. “I know you’re in there, I can see your girlfriend out here!”

Come on
, she thought impatiently at the elevator.
Why was it taking so long?
She eyed the stairs to the right, and shook her head. No way she was climbing the stairs to the docking bay. That was more than 50 floors!

Derek pounded again, and at last the elevator doors opened. Liz nearly jumped inside, pounding the button for the docking bay and pressing it several more times for good measure. The doors closed, and she slumped back against the cold steel.
That was close
.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the stainless steel doors and let out an exasperated sigh. Her hair was a mess. She did her best to look presentable as the elevator rose—without stopping, thankfully—but affected little change.
Well
, she thought.
Not the most pressing thing right now, after all
.

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened, allowing her to step out onto the docking bay floor. A group of ten palace guards stood in the lobby, blocking her path. Palace guards? At the Spire? Sent by Napoleon Alexander, perhaps, to bar her escape?

She reached for
Ignis
, and the lead guard held up his hands, “Hold, Specter Aurora. We bring word from the emperor.”

-X-

Derek Blaine tried for a third time to reach 301 by phone. Still no answer. He pounded again on the metal, so hard it stung his hand, “301! Can you hear me?” Derek felt a sinking in his gut—the very same sensation he experienced on the eve of battle. Something was just…wrong. He placed a hand on
Exusia
and pounded one more time, “Captain, if you don’t answer me in three seconds I’m coming in! One! Two! Thr—”

The Spire’s screaming alarms drowned out Derek’s final word, and he activated
Exusia
by instinct.

“Blaine!” Derek turned to see Admiral McCall marching in his direction, Spectral Gladius in hand. Though he didn’t know why, there was something in the admiral’s stance that alarmed him. For all he knew, McCall could be a part of whatever was happening. Derek moved
Exusia
between them as the admiral drew closer.

“What’s going on, Admiral?” he asked suspiciously.

McCall eyed Derek’s blade with cool understanding, “From what I’ve been able to ascertain in the last few minutes, there’s been an uprising—of which I am not a part, by the way.”

“An uprising?” Derek asked. “You mean the rebellion?”

“No,” the admiral shook his head. “This is something else. Premier Sullivan and the majority of his staff are missing, and several officers and personnel loyal to him are also AWOL. There are reports of battles in the city, one right here in our own docking bay. For all intents and purposes, it appears we are on the cusp of a civil war.”

Derek’s eyes narrowed, “Then how do I know—?”

“If I
was
fighting for the other side, I certainly wouldn’t approach
you
, now would I?” McCall retorted. “Not to mention the valuable time I would already have wasted in conversation, seeing as I could certainly have bested you in a duel by now.”

After a moment of consideration, Derek dropped his battle stance, “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Admiral. I’ve never actually seen you in action.”

“I daresay you’ll get your chance soon enough,” McCall glanced at the door. “Where is the Specter Captain?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to reach him by phone, but he hasn’t—”

“Break it down,” McCall ordered. “Now.”

Derek cut a hole around the door’s magnetic lock and kicked the metal slab hard, knocking it loose so that it slammed into the floor. He leapt over the threshold with
Exusia
in hand, “Specter Captain? Are you here?”

He rushed to the bedroom and found 301 lying still upon the bed as though asleep. “Captain!” he yelled, drawing nearer. “Captain, wake up!” And then, considering that the alarms had not roused him, Derek concluded that his partner must not be
able
to wake. He checked the side of his head and found a fresh welt that confirmed that theory. His chest still rose and fell, however, so he wasn’t dead.

Derek came alongside the bed and shook 301 violently, “Captain, wake up.
Wake
up!”

301 stirred and let out an anguished groan. His hand shot up to his injured temple and he barely opened his eyes, “Derek? Why are you here?”

“What happened, 301?” Derek asked. “Who did this to you?”

“It was Liz,” he said groggily, shaking his head in disbelief. “I woke up and found her over me, about to stab me with my own knife. Then, everything went dark. She must have knocked me out.” At that moment he distinguished the alarms and motioned to the ceiling, “I suppose that’s her?”

“Yes and no,” Derek said. “She’s part of it, I think, but whatever is happening, it’s all over the city.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” 301 sat up. “Why would she try to kill me?”

Derek pulled the knife from where it had been stuck in the side table, “Orders, I presume. Orders that it appears she didn’t follow.” He paused and handed the knife to 301. “Now hurry up and get dressed. The admiral is waiting for us.”

301 nodded and with Derek’s help rose to his feet. He threw on his uniform with surprising speed, despite the occasional stumble from lingering dizziness.

“After this is over, Captain,” Derek said with a smile. “You and I are going to have a long talk about your taste in women.”

3

301
TAPPED HIS FOOT
impatiently as the elevator rose toward the docking bay, mulling over every moment he had spent with Liz since her return to Alexandria. How long had she been working for Sullivan? How much of their relationship had been just a part of the job? Was any of it real?

He had suspected a deeper connection between her and Sullivan after she went to him in the wake of their conspiracy to free Grace—but nothing like this.

“All Specters have been accounted for,” McCall said dryly over the hum of the elevator. “Except for Aurora and Tyrell. Considering that the alarm was triggered in the bay, we can assume they are attempting to escape—if they haven’t already. Central Command reports a massive Halo exodus from the city, but as of yet they can’t tell where they are headed.”

“Have they sent ships in pursuit?” Derek asked.

“Yes,” McCall nodded. “But once they get about ten miles from shore they just vanish—no communications, no radar, nothing. Whatever’s going on, Aurora’s objective must be to reach that blackout zone and make contact with her allies. Our job, Specters, is to stop her.”

“We must assume at this point that Tyrell is involved as well,” Derek said. “He is her partner.”

“You’re right,” McCall’s Spectral Gladius came to life. “Best be prepared.”

Derek and 301 activated their own weapons as the elevator slowed to a stop. The doors opened and all three men froze. Mist covered the entire docking bay, and in their brief seconds of hesitation it began to invade the elevator as well. 301 could barely see five feet in front of him, and the silence created an eerie sense of loss reminiscent of a battlefield in its aftermath.