Word and Breath (11 page)

Riana never knew if he’d seen something or if it was pure instinct that led him to throw himself into her, sending them both down in an ungainly heap to the concrete beneath them.

At the same time, Riana felt more than heard something whiz by very close to her neck.

Then she heard Jenson, who was lying on top of her, grunt.

A woman at a nearby table screamed. Marina started to sob.

Riana couldn’t see anything. Her hands and knees were scraped up—the healed scratches from her fall from the mugger last week reopening from the force of her fall now. Jenson was heavy, tense, and panting on top of her, trapping her in place.

After just a second, he heaved himself up and grabbed her by the ribs to pull her up too. “Come on,” he gritted out, “Run.”

The urgency in his voice would have spurred her on, even if her own realization of the situation hadn’t.

This was a trap.

There was another whizzing beside her—this time near her right cheek. But she was moving and it didn’t hit her.

Instead, she saw Marina jerk and fall forward, blood spurting out in a horrifying stream from her throat.

Riana gagged, almost smelling the blood as it pooled around Marina’s awkwardly bent body.

But Jenson kept pushing her forward, his force causing her to stumble as she stepped over the short iron fence. When she glanced back to watch him follow, she realized that the shoulder of his jacket was soaked in blood.

“You’re shot!”

He ignored her, taking her by the arm and hauling her with him as he half-limped, half-ran into the chaotic crowd.

Those who had seen what happened were running frantically to get away. Others, farther away from the café, just gaped, trying to figure out what had caused the disruption. People were moving in all directions, however, which prevented a clear path out of the square.

Riana was trying to run in a straight line but was obstructed by three businessmen who were trying to clear the mob and get onto the lawn near the café.

“Push!” Jenson ordered gruffly, moving behind her and using his body to press her forward. “Get through them!”

Riana pushed, forcing one man out of the way and squeezing in between two others. She was sweating and shaking and felt like she might pass out at any moment. She’d never been so afraid before, and she could still see the blood spurting out of Marina’s neck.

Jenson’s hands were on her back, and so the jerk she felt alerted her more than the small grunt she heard him make.

She turned to look over her shoulder. His face was dead white and streaming with sweat.

And blood now mingled into the streams running down one side of his face.

He’d just been hit again by the long-range rifle, the sniper just grazing him along the side of his head. His hair was matted with blood, but it couldn’t have been too deep a wound. He was still on his feet. Still conscious.

Conscious enough to give her another shove. “Go!”

Riana was on the edge of sobbing, but fear strangled off the emotion. She kept moving, pushing through the mass of bodies, not even knowing where they were running.

Fortunately, the crowd had closed in behind them now too so they weren’t easy targets for the sniper.

That was why Jenson was staying behind her.

He was using his body to block hers from the shooter.

Her ankle twisted in her high heel, but she managed not to fall, the press of the bodies around her keeping her upright.

She felt more than saw a break in the crowd to her left, so she leaned that way, sidestepping a woman with a baby so she wouldn’t accidently push them down.

It was a good move. They made more progress in that direction. When they changed directions, Jenson altered his position beside her, still keeping his body between hers and the shooter.

He was panting loudly and slowing down, and she moved her arm around his waist to help support him.

He’d been shot twice, and he was still trying to protect her. Riana held onto him as tightly as she could and kept moving.

If they could get into the alley across the street, they’d be completely out of view of the shooter.

“You go on,” Jenson said, his voice strangled and weak. He tried to pull away from her. It seemed like half his body was covered in blood.

“No way.” Riana didn’t let him go and kept supporting him as they hobbled as quickly as they could toward the alley.

They’d broken out of the worst of the crowd now, though, and they weren’t yet out of range of the sniper.

Jenson seemed to realize this, and he jerked her body back in front of his again.

With horrifying acuteness, Riana felt that same whizzing motion again. She felt a stinging in her upper arm but barely registered it.

Then there was yet another bullet.

But this one never reached her.

This time, when Jenson gave that same sickening jerk, she didn’t see where the bullet lodged.

It must have gone into his back.

“Jenson,” she whimpered, having trouble supporting his weight.

There was blood coming out of his nose now. Sickening and utterly surreal. “They want you dead,” he choked out. She’d never seen anyone as white as him. “That means you have to stay alive. Now run!”

She wanted to argue but there was nothing more to be said.

Jenson’s blue eyes were still open.

But his body was a dead weight in her arms.

“What’s happening? Tell me what’s happening!”

Connor was practically spitting into his phone, and he gripped the back of his chair with his free hand so tightly his fingers were white.

Kelvin was in the Square, serving as backup for Jenson and Riana at their meeting with Marina. He’d called Connor less than a minute ago to tell him Jenson had been shot in the shoulder and Marina had been killed.

Kelvin was using an earpiece to talk on the phone, but Connor could hear muffled shouting from the people around him. “Hold on,” Kelvin said, his voice tense and strangled. “I can’t see—”

“Where are they? Go help! You’re supposed to be watching them.” Connor bit his lip to keep from yelling any more at Kelvin. It wasn’t his fault.

A sniper. Aiming almost certainly for Riana.

Who would want to kill her? The Union surely wanted her alive so they could get information from her. Otherwise, why kidnap her sister?

There was some chaotic, unspecified noise on the phone for a few seconds. Then Kelvin said, “There! I see them—” Then he gave a sharp gasp. “That one was too close.”

“Are they all right?” Connor could vividly imagine the scene—his cousin and Riana in a hysterical crowd, being slowly picked off by the shooter. He pushed out the door of his office and bolted down the steps, although there was no possible way he could make it to Canning Square in time.

“Riana got clipped in the arm, I think. I can’t see…” Kelvin must be running now. He was out of breath and jerky.

Connor pushed out the door to the warehouse and was hit by the light of the midday sun. “Is she all right?”

He knew he sounded overly needy, but he felt helpless and absolutely terrified. He never should have let Riana go to this meeting.

“I’m almost—” Kelvin broke off suddenly. And his voice transformed in a way that was unmistakable. “Oh, my word,
no
!”

Connor jerked to a stop, freezing in sudden terror. “What? Kelvin, tell me! Did he kill her?”

***

It had taken Mikel all morning to find Riana.

He’d called her that morning, but she’d only talked to him briefly. She’d thanked him again for helping her ask around about Jannie and for being so kind, but she’d sidestepped all of his attempts to find out where she was or to make arrangements to see her later that day.

He knew she must be getting help from friends—and there was a strong likelihood they were in the Front—but he was more frustrated than he’d expected that Riana hadn’t given in to his gentle nudging.

He needed to find her if he wanted to complete his assignment. Plus, he didn’t like the idea of her out there alone, taking absurd risks to find her sister.

Since he had no other methods of locating Riana, Mikel ended up following Jenson Talon. The man had gone into work—a gutsy move that surprised Mikel—where he stayed to work all morning. Mikel even had time to stop by Largan’s office to see if he could find out any further information. He was back well in time to tail Talon as he left the Annex at lunchtime

Talon was no fool. He was more careful and efficient than Mikel had predicted. He almost lost him when the man doubled back around the courthouse, and he would have lost him in the main terminal of the subway had Mikel not been gifted with the heightened senses of a Soul-Breather.

Instead of getting on a subway car, Talon milled around in the departing crowds until he slipped back up the stairs on the far side. Mikel would never have caught sight of him had his keen vision not picked out the man’s tweed jacket on the opposite side of the terminal just before it slipped out of sight.

Talon was taking precautions. He was making sure he wasn’t followed.

But Mikel wasn’t an ordinary tail.

He followed Talon back to a trendy apartment building near downtown and had the foresight to make a loop around the building to locate the back exits.

There was only one. So he ducked behind the corner of the alley to wait.

As he’d expected, Talon reemerged from the back exit. He had a woman with him.

Riana.

She’d changed her hair and was wearing sunglasses, but Mikel wasn’t likely to mistake her. She was more dressed up than usual—in clothes that emphasized her figure the way her regular clothes did not—and she must have been wearing high heels beneath the cuffs of her long pants.

She looked beautiful. And distant somehow. Mikel wasn’t sure what he thought about her change in appearance.

He stayed out of sight, waiting until they were a block ahead before he started to follow.

At first, he thought they might be heading toward Riana’s loft, since they were walking in that direction.

Before they reached her street, however, they made a turn and went into Canning Square.

So Mikel stationed himself in the shadow of a building across the square to watch and wait some more.

He didn’t like the intensity of the conversation Riana was having with Talon—so intense Mikel could sense it even from this distance. He didn’t like how the man’s hands kept touching her or how she reached to grab his arm.

He particularly didn’t like the demeanor of the woman who came to join them. She was nervous and jittery, and she held herself like she was ready to flee.

That was Mikel’s first warning. He stepped out of the shadow and scanned the Square, expecting to see a squad of Union soldiers approaching.

But no one arrived to arrest Talon and Riana.

Instead a sniper started firing from Mikel’s right.

He saw Talon get hit in the shoulder and then the nervous woman get hit in the neck. The Square broke into confused panic, and Mikel had trouble seeing anything at all.

Most of the bystanders fled in the opposite direction, so Mikel was able to run out into the Square and look to his right. It took only a moment for his keen eyes to spot the shooter, in the window of an apartment building, a few blocks away.

More shots. A man fell—an accidental casualty, Mikel assumed. Then he saw Riana, half-supporting a bloody Talon, pull away from the momentum of the crowd and start moving across the street.

Riana looked stunned and terrified, as far as Mikel could see. Although he couldn’t see much since Talon was blocking his view.

The noble fool must be trying to protect her, obstructing the sniper’s line of sight. It wasn’t a move that would necessarily work with a good sniper, since the shooter’s location was elevated. But still… They were moving, and the sniper wouldn’t have time to line up accurate shots.

Mikel wasn’t affected by the pandemonium around him. He wasn’t infected by hysteria, and he wasn’t particularly afraid for his life.

He was torn, though. He wanted to go help Riana, but he wasn’t sure he should.

And he couldn’t for the life of him understand why anyone would be trying to kill her.

The Union wanted her alive. She was no good to anybody dead.

Before he could decide what to do, the decision was taken out of his hands.

Talon took a shot in the middle of the back. No way he could survive it.

Remarkable. The man had just killed himself to keep Riana alive.

Mikel hadn’t thought people were willing to do that anymore—not give up their lives for someone else.

He started running toward Riana instinctively as he saw her face go white with disbelief. She let the poor fool’s body fall like a dropped marionette.

Then she took off at a sprint for the alley in front of her.

Mikel kept running, and he saw another man heading toward Riana. Something in his purposeful direction clued Mikel in. Perhaps someone else with the Front—running after Riana to lead her away.

Cutting the man off, Mikel reached out and efficiently knocked him unconscious with a hand to the neck. He didn’t particularly want any of this man’s spirit, but he couldn’t allow the man to give Riana another out.

Mikel couldn’t let Riana go back underground. She needed to be with him.

Without breaking his stride, Mikel veered off into a different alley. He could only guess where Riana might end up, but primitive instinct nearly always led a frighten creature to run for home.

She wasn’t far from her street. That was probably where she would flee.

So Mikel bolted down the adjacent alley at a dead run. He needed to get there first.

The alley he had chosen put him a little closer to the block her loft was on, so he made it there before her. He was breathless and perspiring a little, but he composed himself quickly so he would look basically normal as he stood in front of the coffee shop Riana had found him in the day before.

When he saw her burst out of the alley, stumbling a little as she turned in his direction, he reached out for the door of the shop, as if he were about to go in.

It was a risk. Would look like an unlikely coincidence. But he needed to catch up with Riana, and he couldn’t let her know he’d been following her.

He heard Riana give a sob as she must have seen and recognized him. “Mikel!”

He turned and let her throw herself into his arms.

He felt weird—tense and awkward—as she sobbed and shook against his chest for a minute.

Almost guilty, if he remembered that particular feeling correctly.

For whatever reason, he felt like an ass as he stroked her back, making a tentative gesture at comforting her.

Her brokenness was heart-wrenching, and he was tempted to open a connection so he could relieve some of her devastation. He didn’t, though, carefully avoiding touching any bare skin.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling himself together enough to remember he wasn’t supposed to know what had gotten her into this state. “What happened?”

“They tried to…to kill…” She could barely get the words out. Her face was smeared with tears, and her eyes were huge and tragic. “And Jenson! Oh no, no!” She broke down again, obviously struggling to stifle her sobs.

Mikel scanned the block quickly to make sure no one was approaching—Union officials or other members of the Front. It all looked normal, so he took Riana’s face in his hands, careful to hold back a connection. “I don’t understand. Someone tried to kill you?”

“Yes! Un—Union. And they killed—” She gasped, looking around frantically at the other people on the sidewalk. “I need to hide,” she mumbled. “I can’t—”

It was exactly what Mikel had been waiting for. “Why don’t you come to my place?” he asked, dropping his hands so he wouldn’t accidentally connect with her. “I’m just down a few blocks. You can get your composure and then figure out what you should do.”

To his relief, she didn’t even try to argue. In fact, some of the anxiety on her face eased as if all she wanted was for someone to tell her what to do.

It was a natural reaction. She was in shock. She wouldn’t be up to making hard decisions for a little while.

And he’d just taken advantage of it.

It made him feel even more like an ass.

He headed back to the apartment he was borrowing for this job, less than a mile away. He let Riana cling to his arm, and he occasionally murmured soothing things to her.

When they got there, Riana huddled on the corner of the couch while Mikel went to make her some coffee. He dumped a few tablespoons of sugar into it and brought it to her.

“Drink it,” he instructed, sitting down beside her on the couch.

She took a sip and made a face. “Too sweet.” Her hands were shaking as she held the mug.

“Drink it anyway.”

He watched her as she drank the coffee and was relieved when the color started to return to her face.

When she’d finished most of it, she set the mug on the coffee table. Then she stared down at her twisting hands in her lap.

For some reason, his chest ached at how broken she looked. “Riana,” he said, surprised by the thickness of his voice.

She gazed at him, visibly shaking.

“Come here,” he murmured, stretching out an arm and pulling her against his side. She burrowed into him, and he held her close.

He wasn’t feeling like himself at all. The pressure in his chest intensified, and he had to struggle against the urge to open a connection with her so he could make her feel better.

He needed her to feel better.

Her body was soft and small and warm against his, and he tightened his arms around her until she finally stopped shaking.

He didn’t comfort people this way. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d given a platonic embrace of any kind. Empathy and generosity had simply never been part of his nature.

He had no idea why he was indulging in them now, but they were dangerous. He should stop.