Angel Of Solace (14 page)

Kronn repressed a sigh. What he wouldn’t give for a world in which he only had one problem to deal with at a time. Yesterday alone had been a shuttle wreck of legendary proportions. First, their stadium mission had failed rather spectacularly, and the Covenant had apparently been far enough ahead of the game to play them for fools. Then only hours later, their last, best chance at finding a weapon to use against their enemies had blown up in their collective faces. Sariel was still unconscious after the Incubus’s first attempt to contact the spirit inside her, and while Kronn was pretty sure she would recover, his confidence in what had been, admittedly, a long-shot, was starting to wane.

And that didn’t even cover the dozen other mundane things that had already gone wrong with their newest pack-up-and-move operation. He found himself praying to a God he didn’t even believe in that Portis wasn’t about to make this even worse.

“Do they, now?” he said as calmly as he could, taking a seat at the table and setting down his criminally hot coffee.

The other man nodded, his face betraying nothing. Not that it ever really did. “It was just on the news. The police are still searching for several unidentified shooters at the stadium yesterday.”

Kronn pressed his tongue hard into his cheek. Even allotting himself only two hours of sleep last night, he hadn’t had time to check the local reports and see what kind of hornet’s nest they had stirred up. “It was a trap,” he murmured, “and we took the bait. Esche escaped, but we got out clean otherwise.”

Portis’s eyes lingered on the vid screen hanging on the wall to the left. “Escaped, only to be killed later.”

Kronn stopped mid-drink, then caught himself and set it down again. “What?”

“The police found his body this morning. They’re still working to identify it, but we already confirmed it.” The man paused for a moment, and his lip twitched fractionally. “His hand was blown off.”

“Someone in his own gang? Maybe they got upset he was taking Covenant bribes and—”

“No,” Portis said flatly. “He would have survived losing a hand. But every bone in his neck was shattered, with absolutely no signs of external blunt-force trauma.”

Kronn felt a cold shiver run down his spine. “What do you know?”

“That you are running out of time.” Portis turned to face him, his pale blue eyes cold. “We picked up several readings last night. I’m guessing the first came from the stadium and whatever you thought you were doing there. The second came from somewhere not far off the docks.”

“That wouldn’t have been any of us.”

“I’m aware. The reading was beyond anything your people are capable of—except for one.”

Kronn felt his own cheek twitch, and the dryness in his throat seemed to sink straight to his stomach.  He swore under his breath.

“Apparently our friends are no longer content to send us proselytizers and priests, or to just hire on local color,” Portis said, glancing back to the vid screen. “They’ve sent an Angel.”

Kronn leaned back in his chair and finally took a sip from his coffee, barely noticing the scalding liquid. Suddenly recent events made a lot more sense. The Covenant was getting desperate to find Sariel, but he knew that much. This, however, was taking it to an entirely new level. They zealously protected their Angels, rarely placing them in danger or having them leave the temples if at all possible. Despite their enormous power, Angels were also a precious resource. Sending one into Solace where he would be hunted by not only the Asurans, but also Elassian Security and probably a dozen other groups, was something Kronn hadn’t thought they would ever risk.

Which meant getting her back was more important to them then he realized. Or, perhaps, they knew precisely what she was going through and recognized there wasn’t much time…

“You see why we are concerned,” Portis said into the silence.

“I understand, but I’m not sure what you want me to do about it.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “You know exactly what we want. We’ve given you
months
, which is more generous than you know. Now the threat is right on our doorstep.”

“And I’ve given you results,” Kronn countered, realizing how tense his voice sounded. “I’ve given you three new versions of the serum in the last six months—I guarantee that’s better than your own internal research team.”

“Keep your voice down,” Portis admonished, his eyes flicking about to make sure no one was paying attention to them. “I know what you’ve given us and what you’ve sacrificed, Sam. But I am not the Director, and I am certainly not an already panicked public. You’re out of time.”

Kronn grimaced and lowered his head. “We’re on to something. The Incubus we picked up is working with Sariel, and he’s already making progress,” he explained, doing his best to express a confidence he didn’t feel. “In another few days, there’s a good chance we’ll have something concrete you can use.”

Portis studied him for a long moment. “Look, for what it’s worth, I believe you. I mean, hell, without you we wouldn’t even have the equipment to find an Angel in the first place.”

“Narrowing a search to a twenty block radius isn’t exactly finding something,” Kronn admitted.

“It’s better than nothing,” the other soothed. “Without it, we’d have no idea they had an Angel in the city at all. I also know that without your work and your serums, we’d have absolutely no chance against them.” He pursed his lips. “Though I’m not sure anyone is convinced even your latest batch would work on an Angel. Demons? Sure. But not an Angel.”

Kronn twirled his glass and held back another sigh. He had always known ESI—Elassian Security and Intelligence—would eventually push this on him. Ever since they had inserted him into the ranks of the Asurans five years ago they had been impatient. First it was a push for data on the Demons he was working with—medical scans, test results, and so forth. Then later it had been an overt attempt to try out so-called “cures,” serums that could repress their abilities, all with the hope of eventually using such things on the Angels themselves.

Then Sariel had fallen into his lap, and their demands had gone up tenfold. Scans weren’t enough—they wanted her brought in for closer analysis. It was, they argued, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to study their enemy. But he had convinced them—albeit barely—that she could help their cause willingly far more than inside an interrogation room. She
wanted
to help them, and that made her more reliable than any torture victim.

But this time he was very close. Despite last night’s problems, Damien was still their best shot. Another few days or even weeks seemed a trivial price to pay when they had already waited this long. They had reached their limit of what his instruments could tell them, so this was their only chance to get real Covenant secrets—and perhaps to understand what the Angels really were, and how much of a threat they posed to the entire colony.

Those were professional reasons, of course, and while they were good enough on their own, he admitted they weren’t his primary motivation. Not anymore. He liked Sariel. He liked almost all the Asurans. They were good people whose lives were often stolen from them before they even had a chance to live them.

Yet they were also his guinea pigs, test subjects for his serums designed to temper the powers of an Angel. He had been willing to do all that without their knowledge or consent for years. Was this really different?

“Give me a week,” Kronn said. “One week, and I’ll have enough information to sate the Director. It might even be faster.”

“Three days,” Portis countered. “That’s as much as I can stall for you. Any more than that, and ESI will go and pick her up ourselves.”

Kronn frowned. “That’s a big risk. You’re willing to send agents against an Angel?”

“We don’t need agents—we have you,” Portis reminded him. “Unless that has changed.”

So that was that, then. Their ultimatum wouldn’t come from brute force, and really he should have known that. It wasn’t how any intelligence agency operated. Instead, they would have Kronn abuse her trust in him to inject her with the serum—serum which had a good chance of not even working on a being so powerful. And if it didn’t, she would probably kill him.

Actually, she probably wouldn’t, and somehow that almost made it worse. No, she would be merciful and try to find out why he had done it. She would stare him down with those impossibly dark eyes and soft voice, and he would suffocate from guilt long before she actually did anything to harm him.

“Nothing has changed,” he murmured. “Three days will be enough.”

“Good,” Portis said, clearly not convinced. “I’ll be in touch.”

The man stood and dropped a few coins on the table. He seemed to eye Kronn warily for a moment longer before grabbing his coat and departing.

Kronn, for his part, sat there long past when his drink had gone cold. He wasn’t sure why betrayal tasted so bitter this time. As a doctor, he had been willing to betray his patient’s trust for years now—the Demons in the Asurans were proof enough of that. As a man, he had been willing to betray his friends in order to accomplish the mission—Tolson’s death was proof of that. Now he just had to betray one woman. It should have been easy.

Kronn squeezed the plastic cup hard enough the cold liquid dribbled out over his hand and spread slowly across the table.

Chapter Ten

It was almost noon when Sariel finally regained consciousness, but Damien wasn’t even awake to see it. He wasn’t sure when sleep had finally interrupted his night-long vigil, but it wasn’t her eyes fluttering open that brought him to consciousness—it was the flare of her skin against his and the rush of her emotions into his thoughts. He blinked and awoke with a start, only to find her dark eyes boring into his and her hand pressed against his face.

“Good morning,” she breathed.

Damien placed a hand on her wrist and lifted himself to a sitting position. They were both still on the bed in the Asuran’s apartment. Some of Kronn’s medical equipment was still here, like the basic vitals scanner that virtually anyone could use, but otherwise the room was unchanged. The others had left earlier in the night, but they had promised to come back in a few hours. And Damien had told them he would send a message the moment something changed.

“How do you feel?” he asked. It was an automatic response and a bit silly given their connection. With their flesh still touching, he knew exactly what she felt—an odd swirl of confusion and fear at first, but then a warm rush of relief. 

“Tired, if you can believe that,” she replied, sitting up herself. Her hair was pressed into the side of her face and she did her best to brush it away. “I’m glad you’re…well, that you’re not hurt. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen when it came out.”

“It forced me out, but that’s all. I doubt you were so lucky.”

She rubbed at her eyes. “It was like…like it was enraged, more than ever before. I actually saw it, and it spoke to me…”

“Spoke?” he asked, shaking his head. “What did it say?”

She pulled her hands away. “It told me I belonged to it. That I couldn’t resist…” She closed her eyes. “God, what is happening to me?”

“Just try and relax,” he soothed, grabbing her hands and letting the spark wash over him again.“Kronn said he didn’t think anything was wrong with you.”

She grunted. “He can’t even scan the Angel. He’s been trying ever since I showed up and hasn’t gotten any closer. He has no idea what’s going on, not really.”

Damien remained silent, deciding that action was better than words. He squeezed her hands and did his best to control his own feelings, to give her a tether to hold on against the reflexive fear and subsequent rage. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and both seemed to fade back into the shadows of her mind. When she looked at him again, she smiled thinly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…overwhelming,” she murmured. “I’m just glad nothing happened to you.”

“We can try again.”

She pulled her hands away again. “No, absolutely not.”

“I don’t think we have much choice,” he reminded her. “It’s only getting stronger. We need to figure out—”

“No!” she snapped, leaping off the bed. “If you try again, next time it might…it might not let go.”

Sariel swallowed heavily as she glanced out the window, arms folded across her chest. Damien gave her a moment before standing himself and walking up behind her. He wanted to place his hands on her shoulders to help calm her again, but he resisted the urge for now.

“The mind has many defenses,” he said softly. “It’s the entire reason scrubbers do so much damage. Even subconsciously, the mind will try to fight off an invasion, just like your body would a virus. For someone with your abilities, it’s probably even more fortified.”

“I was doing my best not to think about what you were doing.”

“That’s not good enough, not for my capabilities,” he told her, shaking his head. “I’m an Incubus. It was foolish of me to think I could succeed another way. There’s only one thing I’m good at, and that’s what we need to try.”

She shrunk into herself even more, her arms clenching herself tightly. He understood how awkward it must have been for her, letting a stranger into your mind to pluck out your most intimate fantasies—doubly so for someone who had spent her life as a temple priestess. What was routine for him was exceptional for her. And on top of that, it might have been the only way to save her from being consumed from the inside…

 Yes, he understood her apprehension well. What he didn’t understand was his own. It wasn’t a fear of what might happen to him if he reached inside again, either. So what was it, then? What was making him feel so uneasy?

Damien glanced down at his hands. They were actually shaking, and he knew why. This
wasn’t
just routine for him. This wasn’t a client who had just dropped a thousand voca on the table for an hour alone with him. This was someone he had only just met, yet found himself caring about. This was someone he wanted to
impress
.

He shook his head at the ridiculousness of the thought. All that was at stake, and he was concerned about whether or not she enjoyed the experience? He was worried about being judged? How selfish could he possibly be?

“Even if you manage to…distract me,” she whispered, “the Angel will see through it. It will flare up again and drive you away.”

“It might,” he admitted. “It might even hurt me, I don’t know. No one does.” Now he moved forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, appreciating the softness of her skin beneath the thin straps of her blouse. For some reason he wanted her to know how he felt, to appreciate his apprehension, but also his resolve.

“But if we don’t try,” he continued, “then there’s no chance at all and we’ll never know. This is the reason you brought me here. It seems silly to not use what we have.”

She continued to gaze out the window in silence for several minutes. Eventually she unfolded her arms and slid her hands up over his. Finally she spun about, her head only a few centimeters from his.

“You’re right,” she said. “It’s the only way.”

He nodded. “It doesn’t have to be this minute. You should eat something first. I don’t think there’s anything in the fridge, but there have to be some restaur—”

“No,” she told him. “I want to do this now. I need to know. We need to know.”

He thought to protest but quickly decided against it. Whatever mental battle she had just fought against herself, there was no guarantee it was a lasting victory. If she changed her mind later, the opportunity might not come again. Hunger could wait.

“All right. Sure.”

Her eyes danced about as they studied him, and he could feel a fresh rush of anxiety in her. “So…what do I need to do, exactly?”

He smiled. “You don’t have to do anything really. You have the easy job—just lie back and enjoy yourself.”

“Sexist,” she replied tartly, and for a long moment he just blinked, unsure of how to reply, until a wry smile crept across her face. “I’m kidding. You’re nervous.”

He smiled and let out the breath he’d been holding. “I admit I’m not really sure why.”

“Well, like you said, there’s a lot at stake and we don’t know as much as we’d like about any of it.”

“Yes.”

That had nothing to do with it, and she knew that. He could feel that much. He could also feel that for some reason, his nervousness was actually making hers recede. She continued to smile up at him, her breath warm against his neck. From her skin came another surge of emotion, this one like a calming breeze. She was trying to help him calm down—she, the Angel, the one who should have been nervous.

He slid his hand down to her back and gently nudged her towards the bed, but she didn’t move. He started to open his mouth and ask why, but he never got the chance. She leaned forward and kissed him.

Damien had kissed many women, and he had even kissed several other Demons before. The empathic spark that flowed between their lips was much more intense than brushing skin or even holding hands. But this time as her lips pressed against his, it was no mere spark. It was an explosion of emotions so strong his knees grew weak and he nearly fell to the ground.

Her hand slid up to the back of his neck, and his hairs stood at her electric touch. All her doubts and fears coursed through him and then disappeared. Suddenly she was confident, in control, certain that everything would be all right. All her fears about the safety of the Asurans, all her concerns about the being inside her, vanished in the warmth of their embrace.

He traced his way down her back, lowering himself just enough to reach beneath the folds of her skirt and lift her up onto him. She clamped her legs around his waist, and he let his hands appreciate their smoothness. Finally he twirled and lowered her onto the bed with him.

Their lips parted, and her dark eyes fluttered open, sparkling like he had never seen them before. It was the perfect moment, he knew, to reach inside her mind and alter her perceptions. She wouldn’t even know what was real and what wasn’t, and he could rummage around and find the answers he was looking for.

But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want this to be another illusion—he wanted it to be as real as it was now. It had been a very long time since he had felt this rush, this primal need to just be with someone. And she wanted it too; he could see it in her eyes, taste it on her lips, and feel it from her mind.

“I…” he breathed. “I want—”

She placed a finger on his lips and smiled.

He kissed her again. No, people like them didn’t need words. Everything they had was in their touch. Everything they needed was in the other…

Damien almost jumped at the shrill beep from across the room. He broke their embrace and turned—the local phone was glowing softly.

“It might be Kronn,” she breathed, relaxing the iron grip her legs had on his waist and pulling away gently.

“Yeah,” he said, repressing a curse and hopping off the bed to answer it. Maybe it was for the better… “Hello?”

“Good morning, Damien,” Kronn said. “Has anything changed?”

He tossed her a look to let her know she had been right. “She’s awake and seems fine. We were…discussing options.”

“Glad to hear it,” Kronn replied, his voice suddenly tightening. “If you’re both feeling up to it, there’s something we need to talk about at the base.”

“Is it urgent?”

“You could say that,” he grunted. “One of our contacts just forwarded us a message. Apparently one of the Chosen that ambushed us yesterday wants to talk.”

Damien turned to Sariel, who was now sitting up. Her face scrunched when she saw his reaction. “Is that so?”

“Yes, and he claims to have run away,” Kronn said. “I think we need to meet up.”

“All right,” Damien said, repressing a sigh. “We’re on our way.”

***

“Under normal circumstances I would ask if this was a joke,” Shyrah said, “but we all know the Covenant doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

“It’s not a joke,” Sariel replied softly as she held up the data reader and studied everything their contact had forwarded. “He must have escaped.”

Shyrah’s mouth fell open. “Please tell me you aren’t falling for that.”

The Angel didn’t reply. Her gaze had gone distant, like she was looking past the words on the screen and trying to see something else. Maybe she was.

Shyrah just shook her head and turned to the others. They were in Kronn’s office, or at least what remained of it. A bunch of their people had labored all night and gotten an excellent start on the move, including removing half of his things. About all that remained were his desk and a pile of data sticks.

“He could have taken us all out and didn’t,” Kronn reminded them all. His head was tilted down into his fist in that thoughtful pose he liked to make. “I doubt they were too happy with him afterwards.”

“So you think he just ran?” Corin asked. “I might be able to dig out some security reports from the police and see if they noticed anything like that.”

“Maybe,” Kronn murmured. “But that would take some time, and this window probably won’t be open for long.”

“What window?” Shyrah growled. “It’s a trap—and a bloody terrible one too. Their little ambush failed, so now they’re desperate. They probably figure it’s the only way this guy can redeem himself.”

Sariel shook her head and set the pad down. “Avrick wouldn’t do that.”

"Did you forget the paralytic dart he tried to shoot you with yesterday?”

“He didn’t shoot me.”

“No, just the rest of us,” Shyrah said. She wasn’t about to let this go. For one, that thing had hurt like hell. For two, this was absolutely fucking crazy. The only half responsible thing they could do would be to head out to that park with a sniper rifle and finish the bastard off.