Authors: Linda Gayle
Kels flew past him to Sayal and pulled her out of Sorush's death grip. Elion staggered to his feet and limped to Lowan, who seemed to be coming around. He knelt by his friend. “Lowan.” He pressed his hands to the pale cheeks. “Lowan, it's over. He's dead."
A guttural pounding, then ominous buckling and crunching, drowned out anything else he might have said, and the floor tilted precariously. Litter and leaves and Sorush's body slid across the ground.
"Time to fly,” Kels said, his arm tight around a shaken Sayal.
Elion took Lowan's arm and helped him up. “Come with us,” he said.
The assassin shook his head. Bruises and abrasions covered every exposed inch of skin. “My ship is nearby. I'll make it."
"The liner's done for; there's no time."
Lowan clapped his hand on his shoulder. “I must try. The samples are still on it, along with records I downloaded before the Prime could stop me. It's all we need to condemn the armada in this nightmare."
Kels had limped over with Sayal. The assassin narrowed his gaze on her. Fuck. Sayal... Elion gripped Lowan's arm, but the EFC agent had homed in on her like a bastion tiger on a lamb.
"Her,” he said, low and deadly.
Kels clearly understood the problem, for he put himself between the assassin and his prey and held out one hand. “Now listen. She's innocent in all this."
Lowan tracked her movements with his predator's eyes. “She is the hybrid."
"She saved your life,” Elion said hotly.
"She is unholy."
"She's just a girl,” Elion insisted, feeling the steely biceps tighten beneath his grip. “
Our
girl. You saw how she fought the Prime. She killed him."
Lowan's gaze moved slowly to the crumpled alien, then to Elion's face. “She must be destroyed."
"No, Lowan.” If the assassin decided to kill her, it would be a bloody fight to the finish, and they'd all fucking die, and this would have been for nothing. Desperately, Elion shook him, as if he could shake that wall of coiled muscle. “Listen. The Prime said she was polluted by the biolume tattoo on her back. Whatever devices he had in store for her are over. Her DNA's tainted. She's ruined. Those were his words. I wouldn't lie to you. Look at me."
Elion gasped his final plea. It wasn't just panic; it was the oxygen dropping. Lowan froze like a predator about to spring, and yet he didn't. “Lowan,” Elion said, quiet and urgent. “You're more than an assassin. You're more than what the EFC has made you. Let her live. Let us take her. She belongs with us now. Mercy."
Mercy. It was what he'd shown Lowan so many years ago. Mercy when the agent had deserved death, when death had seemed the only option. And from that mercy had come something close to love.
The word released the tension in the assassin's body.
"Mercy,” he echoed. He clenched his jaw, then nodded once and stepped back, as if physically opening a door for them to fly through.
Not waiting for an invitation, Kels pushed Sayal ahead of him, and they ran for the
Nova
. Elion lingered long enough to say, “Thank you."
His chest rising with his own struggles, spiritual as well as physical, Elion suspected, Lowan nodded again. “Until we meet again, Elion."
Defying the thinning air, Lowan sprinted away toward his own ship, wherever it was. Elion turned and stumbled as quickly as he could to the
Nova
, picking up the pulsar along the way. The ramp was already closing, and the engines rumbled on before he even got all the way in.
"Let's not do this again in a hurry,” Kels muttered, and he pulled the
Nova
off the floor of the dying ship and aimed her toward the shimmering plasma field that separated them from the deeps. The
Nova
burst through into the blackness. Elion maneuvered the view, and the damage to the Prime's ship became evident. A great concave dent ruined the port side. Lowan must have planted explosives. The superior construction was all that had held off the inevitable. Even as they watched, speeding away, the ship buckled, spun lazily, then began to break apart.
A wave of sadness washed through Elion. “All that life,” he murmured.
"What's that?” Kels asked, his gaze glued to the viewport.
"It was a beautiful ship. I've never seen forests like that or birds. The poor birds,” he said as a brilliant glow flared up from the ship, and the entire thing shook, then exploded in a fiery ball. A shock wave rolled over the
Nova
, but already they'd gained enough distance that it did no harm. “Lowan,” he said, leaning forward in his chair.
Kels had a sensor array pulled up, and he pointed to a faint blip racing in the opposite direction. “He's all right; he made it. See?"
With a soul-weary sigh, Elion slumped back in his chair. An incredible, numbing exhaustion settled over his aching body. “Saints below, it feels good to be home.” He looked over his shoulder at Sayal. “Are you all in one piece, sweetheart?"
She closed her eyes and nodded. “I'm so glad it's over. Over at last."
"It really is, finally,” Elion said.
"Is it?” Kels glanced at him. “What if your friend reveals her to the EFC? He seemed quite keen on killing her for a moment there."
"He won't. I trust him."
Kels arched an eyebrow. “Interesting fellow, your Lowan. You'll have to tell me more about him someday."
Elion found a tired smile for him. “Fuck and tell? That would be rude."
Kels rolled his eyes. “I have to say, I thought he'd be packing something more direct than swords. Seemed a bit labor-intensive."
"It's his religious code. Sort of an antitechnology thing."
"Give me a pulsar any day,” Kels said, then turned to the com and relaxed back into his chair. “Well, children, where are we off to on our next great adventure?"
"We haven't got fuel enough to go anywhere far,” Elion said. “I vote for Savoonga."
"Where the high games are?” Sayal asked, slight disbelief creeping into her tone.
"Why not?” said Kels. “It's a huge port. We can refuel, stock up, have a rest. If El's right and his lethal lover keeps his word, we have no worries. If not, well...we've a fast ship and all the stars before us."
Elion met his gaze and smiled, and Kels grinned. Saints below, he loved this man. And Sayal too��the bravest, most beautiful girl in the SenVerse.
And as soon as he could move without hurting, he'd be glad to show them both how much.
Linda Gayle is the wild soul and pseudonym of a mild mannered English major who loves exploring strange new worlds and fascinating characters. A pacifist vegetarian, she nevertheless loves reading (and writing) intense, blood-and-guts filled action stories spiced with love, sex, and romance—the stuff of fantasy and nightmare combined. She lives in New England with her husband, two children and many, many pets.