The Darkness That Hunts
Chapter 22

She lies on a bloody slab oflimestone with red candles surrounding her like a crown. Her body has been tornapart and half her face is missing. I replace I cannot look at the bloody mass offlesh, but the rest of the room is little better. Cadavers both human andAterian cover similar stone slabs. A pair of men work at the bodies, cuttingthem open . . . harvesting.

The guys look as sick as Ifeel. Even our guards hang back in a shuffle of feet and uncomfortable coughs.Only Risa seems to be unfazed by the scene.

“Scalpel.”

A head I hadn’t noticedbefore lifts above the mauled woman. He’s surprisingly young. I’d give him twentyyears or so. Sorrow lines the rough planes of his face. Fuzz from a dark beardscratches his chin. His left eye is huge and black, framed by wild,caterpillar-like eyebrows. His right eye is an empty socket. He doesn’t botherto use an eye patch to mask the deformity choosing instead to expose his massof ruined flesh with a certain macabre pride.

A scalpel dangles from arope at his neck, its dull tip crusted in old blood. It clanks against a secondnecklace with its vial of poison as Scalpel leans forward, pressing a kiss to amass of dark hair. He reaches out and caresses what’s left of the dead woman’sface. When he pulls his fingers away, they are damp and red. His gaze jumps toDace.

“So we meet again.”

I recognize his voice frommy dream. His accent marks him as Middle Eastern. His dark hair, thick andcurly, glistens with some kind of oil and it sways against his bearded jaw ashe stands. He is as tall as Zakk but as athletic as Kamiron. A simple sweaterthat has been stitched together from several types of black cloth swells acrosshis broad chest and disappears into the hem of his matching pants. Twin axesdangle from a leather belt at his waist.

“I’m relieved your friend iswell.”

His hostile tone expressesanything but relief.

“Let me do the talking,”Dace mutters from the corner of his mouth. To Scalpel, he says, “I’m sorry foryour loss.”

“You should be,” Scalpelsnarls, “She died to save you!”

Risa touches his elbow. Hisjaw clenches and for a long moment he stares at the dead woman as if waitingfor her to speak. “Forgive me,” he grimaces. “I loved her.”

He suddenly turns to the menworking on the other bodies.

“Salvage what you can ofher, but her meat is tainted.”

I recoil. “You’re eating dead people?” I hadn’t meant toblurt that out, much less with such disgust, but I can’t take it back.

Scalpel’s expression shutsdown. “What would you suggest we eat? I have nearly fifty mouths to feed.Nothing grows down here, nothing grows up there. Tell me, did you pass by oneof your fast food restaurants on the way here?”

I shake my head. “But--”

“We do what we must tosurvive. We eat those who die as long as they are untainted, and we harvestwhat we can from their bodies--whether for weapons and tools, or supplies. Weare efficient. Do you have a better suggestion?”

I stare at my shoes. “No.”

“Then shut up, little girl.”

Kamiron bristles. “Hey, youcan’t just--”

But Dace interrupts him, histone even and diplomatic. “We’re new to your ways and Shari meant nodisrespect. Now,” Dace glances about the morgue. “Are we going to negotiatesafe passage here, or . . .?”

I feel Scalpel’s glare likea hot iron on my neck but finally he nods to the door. “Of course not. To my rooms.”To Risa, he orders, “Gather a scouting party.”

She inclines her head and glidesaway. I follow Scalpel back down the stairs and into a room on the right. Itseems to be a parlor. Incense that smell of Arabian spices and hot desert windsbillow from iron carafes. Glass votives the same color as the candles outsidepoke out of the cracks and fissures marring the wall and splash the room in aruby haze. A heavy wooden stool and tattered pillows line the floor. Scalpelplants himself on the stool like a fabled raja and we take to the floor. Dacein front, Kamiron, Zakk and I in a line behind. Our guards fan out to form aloose crescent.

Scalpel crosses his legs, ankleto knee. “Why are you here?”

“We were crossing the HallowWastes when we ran into--”

“This I know,” Scalpel cutsoff impatiently. “Why are you here in Ater? You don’t bear the mark of TheDarkness-That-Hunts. You carry weapons the likes of which I have not seen and you,” his chin juts out at Zakk, “Looklike The Darkness-That-Hunts’ sniveling druid.”

Zakk’s hazel eyes narrow buthe says nothing. Dace sneaks me a questioning glance and I answer with a shallownod.

“We came to stop TheDarkness-That-Hunts.”

Scalpel’s head tilts backand he guffaws, startling the guards. Zakk, Kam and I exchange curious looks.

Scalpel drags his hand downhis face. “What is it you Americans say? You’ve got balls.”

Dace snorts and continues.“We were on our way to the . . .” Another look my way.

“Sepulcher,” I supply.

“Sepulcher,” he resumes,“when we were ambushed. We want safe passage through your tunnels to themarshlands.”

“Say such a tunnel exists,what would you give me in return?”

“How about the head of TheDarkness-That-Hunts?”

“You’ll be dead long beforeyou reach him.” Scalpel waves off the offer. “I prefer something morepractical.”

I clench my hands intofists. We don’t have time for games.

What other choice do you have? He holds power among the refugees.You must come to an arrangement.

Are you me? I growl, oram I talking to myself without solicitation?

A laugh like wind before athunderstorm. You do talk to yourself.It’s amusing, but I am no more you than you are me. At least for now.

I tuck that information awayfor later. Fine. Who are you?

A hesitation, and then: You may call me Vayu-Vaata, or just Vayu.

Why, I demand, areyou in my head, Vayu?

Why, he shoots back, are you not paying attention to them negotiating away your map?

I jolt back to the sceneunfolding before me. Scalpel holds my pack in his hand. Most of my things reston the floor except for my map which balances across his lap.

“No!” I shout, startlingeveryone. It takes all my willpower not to crawl over to Scalpel and snatch mymap from his slimy paws. “You can’t have that.” I turn to Dace. “He can’t havethat.”

“Shari, it’s the only thingof ours that he values. It’s our bargaining chip.”

“It’s not for barter,” I snarl. How do they expect meto replace the tethers if I don’t know where I’m going? That map is my onlyconcrete clue.

Scalpel’s lips curve inamusement. “Then what do you offer in its place, little girl?”

“My name is Shari, notlittle girl,” I snap. “There is nothing ‘little’ about me.” Scalpel’s eyebrowsraise and the guys stare at me as if I’m embarrassing them, like I’m somehysterical woman on her period. “We’re here to help you--”

“Here to help, you say?”Scalpel interrupts, his voice slow and lazy. “Funny, because to me it seems youdidn’t even know our colony existed until a few hours ago. How, then, were yougoing to ‘help?’”

I ignore his sensiblequestion. “Look, if you’re just going to exploit us then we don’t need yourhelp. Dump us out in your tunnels and we’ll replace our own way.”

Humor flees Scalpel’s expressionand his gaze turns to chips of granite. “And risk you blundering into anAterian’s hands and blabbing about our colony to save your own skin?”

“I’d never do that--”

His fist slams against hisknee with an audible crack. He doesn’t even wince. “You’ll be surprised whatthey can make you do.”

We glower at one another andI think I catch a flash of budding respect in his night-black eye before itrolls towards the ceiling and he emits a long-suffering sigh.

“I am not unreasonable. Wecan help one another. Your map is the most detailed rendering of Aterianregions that I have seen. It can help our scouts to gather supplies, hunt, andforage. In return, you get safe passage--not to the Sepulcher. I can’t spare anyonefor that long a journey, but you may accompany Risa and her scouts. They willtake you on their usual route, and you can replace your way from there.”

“It’s a fair trade, Shari,”Dace implores. I shake my head.

“I can’t replace--” I scootcloser to the guys and lower my voice though I know Scalpel is listening hard,“the tethers without a map.”

“The ability is in you, notsome paper,” Zakk counters, and then shoots us a knowing look. “Besides, I’vebeen trying to make him more agreeable with my clairsentience but he’sexceptionally resistant. Looks like this is a good as it gets.”

Kamiron takes my hands,forcing me to unclench my fingers. “We know this sucks, but there’s no otherway. You’re going to have to sacrifice your map.”

I want to rail against them,but I known they’re right. Despair and defeat wash over me. “Fine, but I needto see it again. For the . . . locations.”

Understanding flares behindDace’s scratched lenses and he turns back to Scalpel. The leader of therefugees wears a smug smile. The bastard.

“We agree to your terms butonly if Shari can first view the map for a few moments.”

He runs a hand along his scrapof beard. “Three minutes, not a second more.”

“Agreed,” Dace answersbefore I can argue. Scalpel tosses him the map. Dace turns, spreading it on thefloor between the four of us. My heart races as I stare at Ater’s regions,trying to commit them to memory. I feel like I’m trying to cram during the lastfew seconds before finals. What hope do I have of recalling this informationlater?

“Cover me.” Ignoring thefeeling that my efforts are futile, I tug out Gjinna’s chain and place thependant on the map. Blood Shield locations bubble up to the surface likeblisters and I memorize as may safehouses as I can.

“A blood shield. Clever,”Scalpel whispers over my shoulder. I didn’t hear him approach, and I yank thependant away but I know I’m too late. How much does he know about the BloodShield?

He reaches over me and tapsthe mountain range that dominates Ater’s northern tip. “These are the BloodShield Mountains.”

A realization clicks inside.The Resistance calls itself Blood Shield. I’d never given much thought to thename before, but that explains how they can hide in plain sight. If anyoneoverheard talk of the Blood Shield, they’d assume the mountain range.

And it could be the base of their headquarters,Vayu-Vaata adds.

“I couldn’t help but noticeyour Blood Shield pendant,” Scalpel continues pleasantly. “I’m going to needthat as well.” He glances at Zakk and his smile fails to light his eye. “Unlessyour mage friend wants to claim that it, too, is enchanted and any who touch itwill die . . .?”

His tone expresses thatZakk’s trick most certainly won’t work again.

“That wasn’t part of thedeal,” Dace objects.

“Deals change.”

I stiffen. “You’ve got themap. My necklace stays with me.”

He tilts his head and aguard steps forward, weapon angled at my throat. “I saw what it does. It’s asmuch a part of the map as the map itself. Now, will you hand it over or shall Ibe forced to take it?”

“For someone with only oneeye, you sure manage to see a lot.”

Scalpel’s grin widens at theinsult. His amiable expression clashes with my scowl as his gaze roams my face.

“Your eyes are beautiful.”Scalpel strokes the blade at his neck. Unlike Risa, he has all his fingers.“This is what The Darkness-That-Hunts would tell me while I was in his care.”Scalpel runs his thumb over the dull, stained blade with the utmost tenderness.“‘Your eyes are beautiful, pet’ he said, and then he took this scalpel andburied its blade deep into my right eye.”

I wince, wanting to turnaway but Scalpel forces me to stare at the mangle deformity that is his righteye socket.

“The pain was incredible butI eventually managed to remove the scalpel. By then it was infected. I found myselfusing this same blade to cut out my ruined eye.”

What he doesn’t say, butwhat I infer is, I will not hesitate tocut out yours.

“Your necklace, please.”

The chain scratches my skinas I lift it over my head. My neck feels barren without its familiar weight.“This belonged to my friend. It is the only thing I have of her.” I dropGjinna’s necklace in his outstretched palm. He stares at it for a moment nodoubt noticing the flecks of blood choking the copper links.

“I will treat it withrespect.”

Yeah, right.

Scalpel retrieves the mapand nods towards the door. “You’ll replace food in the great hall. Risa will getyou when it’s time to leave.” He grants us a shallow bow. His smile is nearlyferal. “A pleasure doing business with you.”

I’m on my feet like I’veseen a hairy, fat tarantula. Kamiron reaches for my wrist but I slap his handaway. I snatch up my longbow and stomp out of Scalpel’s parlor.

The great hall, with itsconical pillars and patchwork blue tapestries, is packed with hungry refugees.It seems the entire colony huddles around the limestone tables. Unlike my firstencounter with them, here they are noisy and vibrant, laughing and chatting asthey eat from tin bowls. It appears to be a stew that looks like chili andsmells divine. My stomach growls and I take four steps towards a table ladenwith food, drink, and utensils before I remember the morgue upstairs.

My stomach curdles. Whatpoor victim is part of tonight’s feast? I picture them gnawing on fingers,sucking on toes and biting into a leg like it’s chicken. I shudder and suddenlythe atmosphere doesn’t seem so festive and carefree. I keep my head low andhead out into the main cavern. The aroma of slow cooked (human) meat isn’t sopervasive out here and my rioting appetite settles.

Guards eye me and my longbowwarily, but make no move to stop me from exploring. I make sure to keep myhands visible, my movements slow, and my expression open. Just as if I wereperusing one of Buckhead’s high-end boutiques. Sure, I could never haveafforded anything in those shops, but what’s the harm in looking? I decideremaining in the main cavern is my safest bet, and I finally discover asemi-enclosed nook just beyond the dungeons where we’d been held. A benchcarved of stone sits next to a stagnant pool that smells heavily of minerals.Florescent lichen grows in clusters along the surface of the wall and smallrivulets of water drizzle down between the cracks in the bulging stone and driplazily into the brackish pool below.

Sighing, I reach up tostroke Gjinna’s pendant, needing its comfort but when the pads of my fingersonly touch bare skin, I remember it’s no longer there.

Scalpel. Right. And the guysdid nothing to stop him. They just rolled over and let him take what he damnwell wanted. I try not to think of the problem that Scalpel and his colonyposes. If we succeed and destroy the tethers, we’ll be trapping any survivorshere--essentially dooming innocent people. My teeth tug on my lower lip. Wehave to replace a way to save them. But how could we get survivors out before thebridge linking Earth to Ater collapses?

“So is it true?”

Risa is kind enough toignore my startled gasp. She squats beside me and watches as a droplet of watersplashes into the pool and creates a series of circular ripples.

“Is what true?”

“You trying to take on TheDarkness-That-Hunts.”

“That’s why we came here.”

“What makes you think you’llsucceed?”

I shrug. “There are nopromises, but we have . . . unique abilities.”

“I saw your handiwork. The flamewall.” Risa gives me an appraising look. “It was impressive.”

I feel a stab of pride, butforce myself to keep my expression neutral. I don’t want to like anyone whofollows Scalpel. Risa rises from her squat and joins me on the bench. The glowof the lichen makes her dark skin look faintly green.

“There were others like youwho were going to face The Darkness-That-Hunts.”

I tense at that. “You metthem?”

“No, that was before I camehere . . . was brought here. Scalpel used to mention it. Used their story toteach us to keep a low profile. To survive.”

“They didn’t make it.”

“He says one fell to the lobisomem.The others to the undead near the Lost.”

I fight back a sigh. “Well,we’re not like them. I’ve been here before and we have . . . help.”

Risa studies me for a longmoment. She really is quite pretty. I feel a pang of guilt for holding a grudgeagainst her because of what Scalpel did to me. It’s not her fault. She didn’task to be abducted and brought here. I wonder what her life was like, before.Did she used to be happy? Did she have friends? Where was she from?

But I don’t ask her any ofthis. It seems wrong to pry into the life she lost.

If Risa guessed my line ofthinking, she doesn’t show it. Instead she reaches around to one of her pouchesand removes a cloth bag before untying the drawstring and passing it to me.

I peek inside to replace whatlooks like thinly sliced, gray potato chips.

“I know you aren’t into our. . . style of food. I was like that too, when I first got here. This is analternative.”

I sniff them. Smells likesoil. “What is it?”

“Some kind of root thatgrows out in one of the tunnels here.”

I take a test bite and mullover the odd mix of flavors. “Tastes like deep fried mushrooms with a hint ofgarlic and rubber tire.”

Risa chuckles and grabs ahandful from the bag I set between us. “They taste better if you roast themover a flame. It gets rid of the rubber tire aftertaste.”

I grunt and for a moment weeat in silence until she whispers, “Samoa.”

I must have had a crazyexpression on my face because she laughs. “Earlier, you looked like you wantedto ask me where I was from--you know, Before. It’s Samoa. Do you know wherethat is?”

Like any good American, Isuck at geography, but I have a general guess. “The Pacific Ocean somewhere.”

She gives a small nod and chewson another chip. “Near New Zealand. South of Hawai’i.” She runs her handthrough her short bob. “Yes, I had a family, and we were quite wealthy. Nothingby American standards, of course but I was happy. My parents had even arrangedfor me to marry a handsome government official.” She seems to note my frownwith an offhand shrug. “It’s not an unusual thing, and it was someone I’d had acrush on for a long time. But then . . .”

Her expression darkens andtears form in her eyes. She rapidly blinks them away and her full mouth forms agrim line. “Our village was hit by a deadly typhoon. And that is when TheDarkness-That-Hunts took me.”

I wait for her to continue,but she doesn’t. “So your family thinks you died in the typhoon?”

“I wish I had died in the typhoon,” she states bluntly. We sit inawkward silence and I force myself to swallow another handful of chips to covermy discomfort.

“He isn’t so bad, you know,”she ventures. “Scalpel, I mean.”

I glare at her but sheignores it and continues. “You’ve got to understand, he just lost his twinsister because of you.”

“That woman on the slab washis twin? But they don’t--”

“They weren’t identical, butthey were twins nonetheless. The Darkness-That-Hunts wanted them, and so hetook them.” Risa folds up the empty bag and then hands me a flask of cool water.“Until yesterday, Yaminah was our leader. It was with her guidance that we setup regular patrols to search for survivors. That we learned to use all of theresources available to us no matter how scarce. Yaminah and Scalpel have beenhere longer than any of us. The Darkness-That-Hunts snatched them from Bahrainwhen they were eight and they’ve been fixtures in this colony since they wereten.”

“Then Scalpel cut out hisown eye and survived the hunt when hewas only ten years old?”

Risa nods. “This is all heknows. He’s brutal, but he looks out for us. He protects us. Sometimes he cancome across as a bit chauvinistic but once you get to know him better . . .”

I fail to see the appeal ofgetting of know him. In fact meeting him once was already one time too many inmy book. “Guess I’ll just have to take your word for it.” I take a deep swig ofthe waterskin wishing it were something much stronger. Not that I’ve ever had adrink in my life, but given the current situation, it couldn’t hurt to have alittle escape.

“The blond one that talks alot--”

“Dace?”

“Yes.” Risa hesitates amoment. “What’s his deal? He always like that?”

“Obnoxious?” I snort. “Yeah,but you get used to it. And as you’ve seen, he’s always assigning peoplenicknames. He calls The Darkness-That-Hunts ‘Andy.’”

Risa laughs. “Andy? How American.”

I’m not sure what to make ofthat, but it’s oddly nice to hear her laugh.

“I replace Dace . . .endearing.”

My look of disbelief causesher to blush and stare at the pool of water lapping against the stones at ourfeet. “I just mean he’s . . . different from anyone I know. People here arevery grim and scared. He possesses a lightness about him, almost like amischievous child, but he is observant and sharp. Dexterous.” At myopen-mouthed stare she leaps to her feet and brushes the crumbs from her lap.“I just think he’s interesting and would have made a great recruit for myscouts. Come, we will be leaving soon.”

I bite my lip to hide mysmile. Risa has a crush on Dace. Who would have thought?

I trail Risa back to thegreat hall and meet up with the guys as they dump their empty tin bowls into awooden bin. I lower my gaze, unable to believe they had just eaten a person.

You told them not to question, to eat when they can becausethey’ll never known when another meal will present itself,Vayu reminds. I can feel his amusement like soft summer breezes wafting over afield.

I didn’t mean people!

Laughter.

“Are you okay?” Kamironasks, falling into stride with me. Once again we head upstairs but instead ofthe morgue we enter one of the storage rooms where six hardened scouts, each ofthem dressed in black and gray and wielding a variety of clubs, flails, andpikes, greet us. They look thin with hunger, but no less lethal. At a nod fromRisa, they hand us our packs. I don’t bother to look inside mine. No need todiscover what else Scalpel has confiscated.

“I’ll be fine.”

Kamiron shakes his head atthe sharp bitterness of my answer. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

I watch Risa and threescouts unloop a black cloth from their wrists. “We can’t risk any of youlearning the location of the colony,” Risa explains. “We’ll take the blindfoldsoff once we’re far enough away.”

I don’t relish the idea ofbeing blindfolded, but I can’t begrudge them their caution. The fabric itchesas it engulfs my eyes, smothering my vision. To keep myself from the temptationof yanking it off, I grip Kamiron’s hand. His palms are sweaty. He gives myfingers a gentle squeeze before the butt of a weapon nudges my shoulder bladeand I stumble forward. I try to keep count of our footfalls but I lose trackafter three hundred. Twists and turns, spiral declines and stairs, we walk forwhat seems like years. Kamiron doesn’t release my hand, but neither does hetalk.

At last we come to a stopand the cloth falls from my face. I blink several times to let my visionadjust. We stand at a convergence of twelve tunnels. Above us, impossibly thinstalagmites dangle from the ceiling like a thousand spear points. A few of thescouts clutch torches that smell odd and cast shadows into the depths of thetunnel openings.

“They burn some kind of weedharvested from the Hallow Wastes,” whispers Zakk, noticing my wrinkled nose.“They believe it will keep The Darkness-That-Hunts’ hounds at bay.”

“Does it?”

He shrugs.

Risa props her hands on herhips and squints down the circle of tunnels around us. She then lectures us onthe essentials of maintaining a level head, sticking together, and keeping ourvoices low to eliminate any echoing. The scouts will take us south of TheDarkness-That-Hunts’ estates before they brave their usual tunnels in search ofescapees and resources.

“So what’s with thescribblings?” Dace squints at tiny graffiti-like markings marring some of thestalactites. The phosphorescent chalk is the white-green color of mint chipsburied in snow.

“Guides. Lets us know whichtunnels are safe.” Risa follows him to a tunnel entrance and crouches beside arounded stalactite. “For instance this route is dangerous. Creatures have beensighted somewhere down that way.”

Dace squats beside her andpushes up his glasses. “Wait a second . . . ‘And I’m going down,’” he reads, “‘Allthe way. I’m on the highway to hell.’ Hey, I recognize this--these are lyrics,” he sputters, startled. “AC/DC.”

Incredulous, Zakk, Kam and Ifan out, searching for the phosphorescent markers. ‘Help me if you can, I’m feeling down / And I do appreciate you being ’round/ Help me get my feet back on the ground / Won’t you please, please help me’the lyrics nearest to me read.

“Classic Beatles,” Zakksupplies over my shoulder. “I guess that tunnel leads to where theyconsistently replace people.”

“Boyz II Men over here,”Kamiron announces and then softly sings the chorus to “Water Runs Dry”: “‘Let’sdon’t wait till the water runs dry/ We might watch our whole lives pass us by/Let’s don’t wait till the water runs dry/ We’ll make the biggest mistake of ourlives/ Don’t do it, baby.”

I can’t hide my astonishmentthat Boyz II Men lyrics lurk in the bowels of Ater, much less that Kamiron isfamiliar with an R&B group from the ’90’s, and can actually sing very well.

Risa smiles at mybewilderment. “Breaks the monotony doesn’t it? It’s terrifying down here so weneed something to distract us and settle our nerves. American music is wellknown across the world so even people like me who have never been to Americacan use it to communicate. This way.”

Risa and her scouts usher usdown another tunnel. The light from their torches glosses over sloppy writing thatcurls down the edge of the tunnel wall. ‘Mother,’the lyrics caution, ‘tell your childrennot to walk my way . . .’

Each tunnel Risa slips downdisplays messages of warning in the code of song lyrics. Sometimes old songsand lullabies, other times showtunes and contemporary music, even theoccasional Disney song. Some lyrics I recognize--Prince, Michael Jackson,Johnny Cash, Madonna--others I have no clue (Zakk helps me with those: Dio,Counting Crows, Nirvana, Carrie Underwood). I replace myself looking forward to seewhat song I’ll encounter next and I replace the melodies of the songs I knowplaying in my head as we navigate the dark abyss with Risa choosingincreasingly dangerous routes. Finally she and the scouts stop at threediverging tunnels, one with lyrics from Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”, thesecond with Elvis Presley’s “All Shook Up”.

“Follow that corridor to thesurface.” She motions her people down the third tunnel with Black Sabbathlyrics crawling down its wall but she doesn’t immediately follow. The flames ofher torch streak her black hair with gold. “I don’t know how successful you’llbe with your task and you can’t count on the colony to support you, but . . .”She hesitates and her tongue darts out over her lower lip. She nods as ifcoming to a decision. “If you replace yourselves down here again, follow theDisney lyrics. They’ll bring you back to that first cavern with all thetunnels. I’ll have someone stationed there to wait for you incase . . .”

Zakk, Dace, Kamiron and Iexchange long glances and I’m relieved that they feel as I do. If we can stop TheDarkness-That-Hunts, maybe we can get word to the colony and save them beforewe break the final tether and seal this place away.

“We’ll send a message wheneverything’s ready,” Dace promises.

Risa turns to him and giveshim a long, hard stare as if committing him to memory. I can’t read theemotions that she tries hard to bury, but I have a guess.

“Risa,” one of her guardshisses.

Risa straightens hershoulders and in two strides she’s standing before Dace. He’s taller than her,so she has to stand on her toes to press her lips against his. It’s a deep kiss,one of lingering promise and then she hurries off.

Stunned, Dace stares after Risa’sfading torchlight, his mouth agape and eyes half-hooded. The pads of hisfingers drift up to his lips and his disbelief shifts to speculation.

Zakk conjures a wisp oflight and a teasing smile curves the corner of his mouth, stretching one of thetattoos along his cheek. “Never seen Dace at a loss for words before. It’s anice change, don’t you think?”

“Maybe we ought to call himCasanova,” I grin.

Dace’s face turns bright redbut he doesn’t look away from the tunnel Risa entered until the darknessswallows the last of her torchlight.

“Alright, Casanova,” Kamirongives Dace’s shoulder a playful shove. “Let’s go replace this tether.”