The High Priestess (12 page)

Nope. Not thinking about it.

And still no underwear.

Oh well. She shimmied into her pants and pulled on her shiny silver tank top. In the hazy light of morning, she felt rumpled and twitchy. Her link beeped again, giving her a better idea of where it was—under the bed. Growling uncomplimentary things, she sank to her stomach and peered into the shadows. Sure enough, the link’s small screen was lit up against the back wall. Ophelia grabbed it and headed into the bathroom, locking the door for good measure, and brought up her messages.

Her stomach clenched when her mother’s voice came online. “Good morning, daughter. I trust you slept well last night.”

It was like she knew what Ophelia had been doing. Considering she was a second-level Diviner—known as a
Tyche
by their species—it was likely she did. Ophelia shoved the hair out of her eyes, refusing to feel guilty. Or at least making a good effort at it. She’d lost her whole damn crew, for the Lady’s sake. A failure like that deserved a little drinking.

Her mother continued on, looking remarkably put together despite the fact the call had been placed before Keiluna’s twin suns breached the horizon. But then, Mama always looked put together. It was downright unnatural. “In any case, your father and I need to speak with you immediately. We will see you for breakfast.”

Corpse’s fingers traced up Ophelia’s spine and down her arms, raising goose bumps in their wake. Damn. Her mother might support Azure Enterprises, might agree with their mission, but she also never involved herself with the dirty details, let alone something so small as a run.

Something was up, something to do with the Lady’s business. That’s the only reason Mama would be the one making this call.

Double damn.

She cast a quick look around the bathroom, frowned at the flash of red in the hot tub, and crossed the black-tiled floor. Sure enough, her underwear floated along the surface. Ophelia grimaced as she hooked them with a single finger and raised the dripping cloth. The dripping
ripped
cloth. All evidence pointed to her having the time of her life last night.

Too bad she didn’t remember it.

She frowned, thinking hard, but last night was one big blank. Which had been the plan, of course. It had started at her favorite pub, The Hammer, and she vaguely remembered deciding to go dancing after midnight, but then everything faded into a pleasant grayness. She was going to have to make sure she tipped Lacy next time she was in—those drinks had been strong enough to make even
her
wince and Ophelia was all about more bang for her credits. Still…pretty soon she would have to tone it down on the whole blacking-out thing. Too much could go wrong, from her killing someone to getting kidnapped.

Dropping the underwear on the floor—something to remember her by—she walked out of the bathroom. After pulling on her boots, she took one last look around the room. Whatever else happened, she must have had a universe-shattering time. The bed covers were tangled on the floor, and the entire bed skewed sideways where the springs had broken in. And there were the telltale remains of spray-on condoms scattered about. Thank the Lady, because the last thing she needed right now was a baby. She couldn’t even take care of her own crew.

The man rolled over and she tensed, her gaze flying to his face. When he didn’t open his eyes, she breathed a little sigh of relief. He really
was
delicious. Those cheekbones were sharp enough to cut and that jaw certainly wasn’t weak. Still…he wasn’t pretty by any means. Such a waste when paired with a body like that.

She found her bag near the door and a quick check told her nothing was missing, so she walked out the door without looking back. It was bad luck, after all.

The prominence of red and black in the decor was enough to indicate where she was. Death’s Door. It wasn’t the safest area during the best of times and, since the riots, it was damn near fatal for someone like her. What in the hells had possessed her to come to this part of town last night? Especially with the patrols Sanctify had scouting the streets, ready to scoop up anyone who showed signs of being less than human. Gods knew they’d jump at the chance to nab one of their dreaded Diviner enemies. What happened to those unfortunate souls didn’t bear thinking about, especially knowing her crewmembers had suffered the same fate.

To save her.

Surely it wasn’t too early to start drinking?

She shook off the memories of those final moments on the
Dutchman
, before Akito and Kana drugged her and tossed her into an escape pod. She’d need to keep her head straight if she planned to make it out of here. Death’s Door wasn’t a place for nonhumans, no matter the flavor. Ophelia couldn’t begin to imagine how she got through the door in the first place. Sure, she looked human, but only until people saw her eyes. Even with the implants and upgrades available to anyone with enough cash, no one besides Diviners had eyes this shade of blue-violet.

Right now the only thing that mattered was getting back to her parents’ house. Mama’s call had her on edge, her mind full of questions, her instincts screaming warnings. Bypassing the elevators—too easy to get penned in—she took the stairs down, thankful no one else was up and around at this ungodly hour. As soon as she was outside, the band around her chest loosened a bit.

Above her, the sky stretched wide, a color somewhere between yellow and orange that would change several months from now when the winter storms hit. Ophelia slipped on a pair of red-tinted glasses, glaring at the flickering posters depicting the ancient High Priest of Ba’al. Attached to the walls of nearly every building on the street, they were larger than life, each taller than her nearly two meters, and their damn tech was so good the bastard actually moved. He waved an age-spotted hand and smiled, the words “Purity Will Protect You” flashing below his face. It made her sick knowing there were those who actually believed shit like that.

Unable to stand the sight any longer, she turned her attention to the thin crowd filtering through the streets. The only people out were dressed in muted colors and moved quickly about their business, hoods pulled up to conceal their features. As Ophelia watched, a small group of dirty teenagers skirted the edges of the buildings, their shifty eyes suggesting they were looking for their next score.

They were all human.

Shifting her bag higher on her shoulder, she started walking, keeping her eyes to the ground and her pace up. As long as no one looked too closely, she could pass for human. But the trick was not to draw attention to herself. Even as the thought crossed her mind, she heard militant steps that could only mean one thing. A Sanctify patrol, and one closing fast.

As if her morning could get any worse.

Ophelia kept her stride even, acting as if she had every right to be there, hoping to the Lady they wouldn’t look too closely at her. Those bastards jumped at any excuse for a public bonfire, and nabbing a Diviner would be a huge coup.They passed her at a fast clip, obviously having somewhere to be. The closest one, a tiny man with tattoos depicting Ba’al, cast a searching look her way but didn’t pause.

She waited until they rounded the corner before breathing out a prayer of thanks to the Lady. That had been close. Too close. Keiluna used to be the perfect place for Azure Enterprise’s base, lots of people coming and going, a population diverse enough for anyone to blend in. But then Sanctify had turned its bloody eye their way and taken over.

Oh, officially it was still owned by the Delegate of Quadrant Four, but those monsters had slipped in, whispering poison until the perfect opportunity arose. This time it came in the form of an “attack” on a human child by one of the Bolkerians. If anyone had stopped for half a second to think, they would have realized the alien meant the little one no harm, that the boy just got underfoot and the Bolkerian didn’t move fast enough to avoid him. It was a terrible, terrible accident that he’d been impaled, but it had been enough to spark a fire of hate directed at anyone different.

The riots had gone on for days, a bonfire set up in damn near every intersection, until the alien population was decimated.

And now Sanctify held the reins, ruling a people suddenly fearful of anything different.

Though her thoughts were consumed with darkness, the streets around her had begun to take on a more cared-after look, the busted windows replaced by metal bars and eventually by higher-end materials—the homes of people with enough credits to replace what was lost in the fires and violence. The faded paint, streaked with soot, changed as well, evolving into cheery blues, greens, and yellows. There were even carefully tended flowers blooming, the pretty purple ones so common on this planet, bunches of heart-shaped petals so full, they trailed over the window ledges to hang above the street. Their subtle scent teased her, as if this dash of beautiful could cover up the ugliness lurking within.

After a quick look around to make sure no one was paying attention, Ophelia jogged up the three stairs leading to a yellow house with a muted blue door. She’d been trying to convince her parents to move somewhere more secure since even before the riots, but Mama liked to be accessible to her clients and Papa claimed the best place to hide was in plain sight, that no one would expect the leader of Azure Enterprises to be hiding on a planet controlled by their enemy. Ophelia thought it was bullshit, but once Papa got an idea in his head, there was no moving him. Mama was supposed to be the calm and rational one, but she wasn’t much better.

So Ophelia was forced to content herself with ensuring they had multiple escape routes and hideaways in case things went south.

The muzzle of a gun met her as soon as she entered the door.

She froze, a small smile tugging her lips. “Papa, put that antique away. It’s only me.”

Her father lowered his gun and Ophelia rolled her eyes. The damn thing was so old it probably didn’t even work. Then again, this was her father she was talking about. He wouldn’t haul around a useless weapon.

“Your mother is in the kitchen.”

An icy chill of foreboding snaked its way through her. “What’s going on, Papa?”

He shot her a look and stalked down the stairs. The fact he was cranky but not battening down the hatches should have been comforting. Instead, her anxiety skyrocketed. This was definitely about the Lady’s business, and she knew all too well how nasty things could get when someone didn’t heed the Lady’s warnings. It shouldn’t be so terrifying, since readings were an integral part of her world, but Ophelia couldn’t shake the feeling her life was poised on the precipice, readying to fall.

Lady, but she hoped not.

…

Boone woke the moment the Diviner got out of bed. He listened to her mutter and curse as she moved around the room before finally retreating into the bathroom.

Last night had been a mistake. He was only supposed to scope her out, see what was so special about some woman from Keiluna that made Kristian send spies to watch her.

She’d looked so untouchable sitting there with an entire bottle of the clear alcohol they brewed on-planet, wearing a tiny top revealing more than it covered and black pants looking painted on. But it wasn’t her body that held his attention—there were plenty of beautiful women flaunting themselves in the bar—it was the way she moved when she went for her second bottle. The loose way she walked, as if she were ready to spring into violence at any moment. It was a radical opposite from the pretties Kristian had carted back to Hansarda to populate his harem.

Really, she was more Boone’s type than his half brother’s. Her obvious battle training paired with the sweeping black hair and delicate features were quite the package.

Even with those damned violet eyes.

But the part that drew him in the most was the vulnerability on her face when she thought no one was looking. Her shoulders slumped, and her fingers framed the bottle in front of her as if it were the most precious thing in the universe.

He’d had to talk to her, to see if her personality held up the physical promise. Surely she was as empty-headed as the other women Kristian cultivated, a pretty face who could barely hold a conversation.

Boone really should have known better.

He was in trouble as soon as he heard her throaty sex-vid-star-would-kill-for voice. It didn’t help that she’d been telling some poseur to shove off before she jammed his balls down his throat. The combination of strength and weakness was an intoxicating one he had no hope of resisting.

The bathroom door swished open, jerking him back to the present. He listened to her breath hiss out as she sat across from the bed.

Boone contemplated trying for another round. He could still taste her on his lips, and it was driving him crazy. They’d been together more times last night than he could count and still he craved the feel of her skin against him. But last night was a mistake, and not one he could afford to repeat. Maybe if he kept thinking that, he’d start to believe it. Besides, she’d hate him soon enough. All of Kristian’s floozies did. Just because she seemed different from the countless others didn’t indicate a different outcome.

As soon as she left the room, he rolled back over and stretched. He was tired and sore and felt fantastically used. The woman really was something.

His wrist unit beeped, and Boone sighed. Couldn’t Jenny give him a few minutes to enjoy the afterglow? He opened the call, leaving the screen blank. His little sister didn’t need to see where he was and start asking questions. “What?”

“Now, now, is that any way to speak to your favorite sister?”

“You’re my
only
sister.”

Jenny laughed. “Technicalities.” Even without the screen on, he knew her gray eyes, so similar to his own, were dancing with mischief. Which meant trouble for anyone in her sights.

Boone flopped back on the bed and propped his head on his free arm, the movement pulling at old wounds. He rolled his neck, fighting against the tide of memories threatening to drown him. Kristian coaxing him down to the dungeon to hide from the old man. The chains digging into his wrists. The knife, gods, that damned knife…