Vicious Circle Read online

  Her small gesture warmed the head guard’s attitude. His sun-weathered craggy face cracked a grin as he looked from Kila to me and back again. “Good to have you home, Mistress.” He nodded to me. “And nice to see you with someone.”

  “Thank you, Willen.” Kila stood on tiptoe to plant a quick kiss on the guard’s cheek.

  The older man flushed an impressive shade of red, and his smile broadened. He winked. Swinging out an arm, he indicated the other five sentries. “I must say, some of these lowlifes had a pool going on whether you would Bond at all.”

  I glanced at Kila, raising an eyebrow. Her cheeks turned as pink as the guard’s. She managed an embarrassed giggle. “No one’s Bonding with anyone yet.” The slight emphasis on the last word made my breath catch, and I swallowed hard.

  Willen stepped back, examining me from head to foot and resting his gaze on my face. His gray-blue eyes searched mine for several long moments, and my muscles tensed, thinking I’d been found out. Then he smiled, nodded with approval, and waved us through the gate.

  Halfway up the front-walk stepping stones, a row of tall bushes obscured us from the sentries’ view. I took the opportunity to drop my hand from Kila’s, though she seemed reluctant to let go. Not wanting to offend her, I smoothed the wrinkles from my long skirt as an excuse. “What’s all this about Bonding? You’re only nineteen.”

  “Practically an old maid on Lissex. Average marriage age is seventeen. I’m almost twenty.” That thought sobered her.

  Right. Twenty. And her brother as well.

  Instead of ringing the classic brass announcement bell hanging from a post outside the entry, Kila placed her palm against the lock panel. The massive wooden door swung open without a sound, but a uniformed butler stood just inside. Archaic decor and accouterments, but the T’rals employed modern-day technology and security cameras. I scanned the bushes and the exterior of the house, spotting nothing. Good equipment if I couldn’t see it.

  “You’ve been announced” was all the butler said, but Kila thanked him anyway. Despite the pomp and circumstance, wealth and privilege, Kila treated everyone we met with respect and friendliness.

  I followed her to a set of dark wood double doors that slid into wall pockets as we approached. Years of stress-control training fled as I faced the individuals seated in stiff-backed chairs behind those sliding panels. My heart rate picked up. Kila greeted her parents and said my name, but my lips couldn’t form words. The smile I managed felt forced and unnatural.

  Lord T’ral stood and circled me, a frown deepening the lines on his face. He smoothed the strands of his neatly cropped gray hair with the palm of his hand. “Does she talk?”

  Ah, he’d kept all the pretentiousness for himself. My nervousness left as fast as it came. I was here to kill this man’s rapist son, a son he would support over Kila, despite those horrible acts. I found my voice. “Yes, she does,” I answered, keeping the tone friendly to lighten my not-so-subtle rebuke.

  A grilling worthy of military interrogators followed, questions about my family and upbringing, financial status, and age. Years of mingling with lawbreakers taught me plenty about responding. Give truths whenever possible and lie only when necessary to minimize my chances of getting caught in those lies.

  “I assume you are a Believer?” Lord T’ral bowed his head on the last word.

  Kila’s sharp look alerted me to tread with care, but I didn’t need the warning. Religion clearly meant a great deal to this family, and I had prepared the answer to this question. “I admit I was unfamiliar with your beliefs before meeting Kila. However, her deep devotion has prompted me to begin reading the Generational.” True enough. Her father’s frown evaporated as he nodded acceptance.

  Throughout the session, Lady T’ral said nothing, but I watched her appraising Kila. The woman seemed weary, worn into submission, but she smiled at her daughter and rose to take my hand briefly before my dismissal.

  In the hallway again, I paced in front of those now closed doors, listening to voices as they rose and fell—Lord T’ral’s demanding, angry, and sharp; Kila’s strong, logical, and adamant.

  When Kila emerged, she nodded once and left it at that. Her struggle with her father had drained her of all energy, and her shoulders slumped as I followed her up a wide, winding wood staircase. I hurried to catch her, taking her hand in mine. She clearly needed a little space, but we had an illusion to maintain, and she managed a smile for me.

  A long hall at the top of the stairs went left and right. To the left, a pair of guards flanked a door at the end of the corridor. Kila stared at them a long moment. Then she turned right and entered a cheerful suite in blues and whites with a sunny view overlooking the bay in the distance and the town below.

  At first I thought this was a guest room, but the personal touches—holos of Kila sailing with friends, riding some kind of six-legged animal, and a couple of formal portraits—identified the space as hers. A couch and table rested in the foreground, with a double bed and a door leading to the bath at the rear. A kaleidoscope of colored pillows covered the bed, and my host threw herself facedown among them, scattering some to the deep blue carpeting.

  “I take it I’m allowed to stay?” I asked, pulling her bag from her and laying it on the couch with my borrowed one beside it. I seated myself next to her on the bed and let one hand rest on her back. Her breath made her spine rise and fall under my touch. I felt her heart beating, faster than I thought normal.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “What’s with the security in the hall?”

  Kila rolled without warning, and my hand brushed her left breast through her blouse before I got out of her way. If she noticed, she didn’t comment, but heat ran from my fingertips to my shoulder and down into my own chest. I drew air in and let it out slowly. This girl would be the death of me yet.

  “That’s my brother’s room.” She sighed.

  “Your brother has armed guards?” My assignment just became a whole lot more difficult.

  Kila groaned. “He didn’t when I left.”

  “Right.” I thought through my options. “When would be a good time for me to go into town on a shopping trip? I’ll need extra equipment if I’m going to pull this off.” I glanced down, suddenly uncomfortable. “And credits. My account is pretty dry.” My discomfort confused me. Kila hired me. She would expect to cover my expenses and pay a hefty fee beyond. Friends or not, I didn’t work for free. But after all we’d been through, it felt strange asking her for payment. Usually we settled all this with our clients well beforehand. In the quiet moments we’d had, my mind had been on other things, things it shouldn’t have.

  She seemed to sense my awkwardness. Moving to her dresser, she opened a compartment to reveal a computer built into the piece of furniture. She entered several codes on a keypad, then spoke quietly into a voice pickup. A moment later, a slot expelled a small credit chit. Kila handed it to me. “This should take care of the finances, but let me know if you require more.”

  I examined it. Standard-issue, no personal signatures. Dangerous to leave lying around since anyone who picked it up could use it. Safe for me. Unless a person had significant technological know-how, it would never be traced back to either Kila or myself. I slipped it in the pocket of my borrowed skirt.

  “Tomorrow morning would be the best time,” she added. “But finding what you need might be difficult on Triumph. We’re a fishing village and a tourist destination. Sun, beaches, not weapons.” She stood and crossed to her bag, slipped the Generational out and placed it on the table by the couch. Her movements jerked like a robot’s while she put away her few other belongings in a cabinet and chest of drawers.

  “Weapons, I have,” I said, indicating my own carry sack. “But I can’t exactly walk down the hall, sweet-talk my way past the guards, and stroll in to kill your brother. I’ll need to do it from the exterior. I assume he has a window like yours?”

  Kila looked out at the expansive panorama. “A bigger one. Double panes
opening inward, and a cushioned window seat inside.”

  “And electronic security? Surveillance systems? I know you have a camera on the front door. That butler was waiting for us.”

  “My family believes in human protection, not machines. The front is on camera for efficiency, not security.”

  I snorted at her disdain. “Perfect. Good and fallible.” The window wouldn’t have been my first choice, but at least I wasn’t contending with computer-monitored alarms. “Don’t worry,” I told her, rising to stand at her side. “I’m trained to improvise. Besides, I have a couple of thoughts on where I can get what I need.” I put an arm around her shoulders, then withdrew when she stiffened. Her sudden aversion to my presence surprised me, but I attributed it to guilt and nerves. This wasn’t some stranger or neighbor I was killing. It was her brother. And family bonds ran deep, regardless of a sibling’s behavior. As an only child—as far as I knew—I needed to remember that.

  “Just make certain you return in time for the ceremonial dinner.”

  “The what?”

  The wicked gleam in Kila’s eye assured me she’d regained her good humor. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of your attire.”

  I SPENT a restless night on the too firm couch with a couple of neon-pink throw pillows under my head. In the darkness, the house creaked and groaned with each gust of wind off the bay, and I wondered how many generations of her family had lived here. Kila left the window open, and the smell of salt air carried on the breeze. Desert-raised as I was, the ocean attracted me as any novelty would, and I strained my ears to hear each lapping wave against the village docks.

  The moonlight shining through the shutters lit the entire suite in shades of bluish white. Kila’s shadowy form tossed and turned on her wide mattress, and I resisted the urge to go to her and offer comfort from her nightmares. After all, there was a good chance my upcoming mission here caused them. She might reject or resent my concern. At last she settled and snored lightly in a most endearing manner.

  I strangled in my own needs, inner voices of reason and desire arguing among themselves until I wanted to shout them down regardless of waking the household. What in all religions’ hells was I thinking, anyway? Suppose Kila did want me, with all my violent traits and psychological failings. Suppose I slipped into bed beside her right now. What then? I came to do a job. Though I didn’t intend to be seen or get caught, once that job ended, I couldn’t exactly take off with the girl in tow. She didn’t deserve a life of running with me, hiding from the Guild’s punishments.

  And I certainly couldn’t stay on Lissex.

  Could I?

  For years, I belonged to the Guild. They provided a sense of family and stability. I needed that, wanted that, and hadn’t had it since I’d left. Lord and Lady T’ral might accept me if I proved myself to them. It was just another type of trial, not so unlike those the Guild subjected me to. Less painful, less physical, but no less challenging.

  I stood and paced in the darkness, bare feet sinking into plush carpeting. I’d lost my mind. I couldn’t stay here. Kila wouldn’t want me after I killed her brother, no matter how much relief that act gave her. I’d still be a painful memory. And what if the Guild found me here? They’d out me as an assassin, make it obvious I was the one who killed her brother. They’d ignore Kila. They didn’t harm innocents. But she’d watch them hunt and capture me, perhaps kill me before they could haul me back to the underground fortress to execute me there. I didn’t want her to see that.

  Throwing myself on the couch again, I buried my face in the pink pillows and covered my head with my arms.

  I rose with the dawn. Brief rummaging in Kila’s closet produced a long-sleeved blouse that fit and didn’t clash with the only skirt I owned. In the lavatory, I did a passable job of recreating Kila’s makeup masterpiece. Then I slipped out the door and closed it behind me.

  I nodded to the guards, different ones from the night before. At some point, I’d missed a shift change. These acted friendlier, returning my nod and cracking knowing grins over the steaming cups they held. It gave me a chance to check out their weaponry—high-quality stun pistols in thigh holsters and shock sticks in their belts.

  No one stopped me when I left the house, though the gate security asked after my destination.

  “Shopping for the young lord’s birthday,” I told him, flashing a smile.

  “Ah.” The older guard nodded. “He appreciates woven art and classic Hibrin music.”

  Whatever that was. I thanked him for his suggestions and flounced out the gate, even giving my long hair a toss for good measure. Adding a little more hip sway than usual to my walk, I made my way down the path and caught more than one whistle from the other guards on duty.

  That changed once I turned between two buildings and lost myself in their cover. I ducked into an alley and double-checked the pistol I wore under my full skirt. A few extra tightening holes, added with my knife, turned my belt holster into an adequate thigh holster. It would take some doing to reach the weapon, but I felt better knowing I had it with me. The blades in each of my boots pressed against my ankles in a comforting manner.

  I headed away from touristy areas, keeping to backstreets and alleyways. If a seedy side to Triumph existed, my knack for locating trouble would find it.

  Well out of view of the ocean, I located a boarding house, run-down and shabby. Several large men lounged on the rickety porch, drinking ale from chipped mugs and exchanging bawdy jokes. The subject matter shifted when they spotted me, and I became the topic of conversation while they vocally pondered what I charged and which positions I preferred.

  “I’m more interested in acquiring some climbing gear, wall exterior, stone and wood.” I’d bet my Guild training these men were mercs. What they wanted here, I had no idea. I guess even hired guns needed vacations. Identification of my intended target didn’t concern me. Every building on the island of Triumph appeared to be made of stone and wood. I stepped through a swinging gate that hung by one hinge and stood at the foot of the porch.

  Derisive laughter met my request, and I flushed with anger before remembering my costume. “Hasn’t your sergeant taught you not to judge by appearances?”

  The largest of the men, round-faced with red hair, stuck a thumb in his chest. “I am the sergeant.” He burped a curse at me, and the odor of stale brew carried the meter between us. The others laughed and speculated on whether I could handle all three of them in bed at one time.

  I’m not sure what possessed me at that moment. I hadn’t slept well, my sexual frustration levels neared an all-time high, and for a change, my leg and shoulder weren’t bothering me in the slightest. I also hadn’t had a drink in a couple of days, which made me edgy. In short, I was itching for a good fight, and if that earned their respect, maybe I could accomplish other goals. “I’ll tell you what, I take you out, you sell me what I need.” My stance indicated I wasn’t referring to escorting them on a date.

  Their expressions shifted from amusement to surprise to disbelief. The sergeant got up and swaggered to my side. He swayed where he stood, the alcohol getting the better of his balance and judgment.

  “Come on, pretty girl. Don’t fight. There’s better things to do with all that energy.” He laid one paw on my shoulder.

  Big mistake.

  I grabbed his arm with both my hands and wrenched it behind his back. Something snapped, and he howled with pain, then tumbled forward, staggering on the uneven walkway and hitting the ground on his knees. His buddies hooted with laughter.

  “Don’t just sit there!” The sergeant’s command brought the others to their feet.

  This was getting interesting.

  The pair of younger mercs hopped the porch railing, flanking me on either side. I kept them in my peripheral vision, while I watched their leader stand once more. Scanning them for weapons, I spotted a couple of knife hilts but no guns. Didn’t mean they weren’t packing them under jackets, but those would take more effort to reach. As long a
s they didn’t pull anything, I planned to remain unarmed as well. Fighting with honor produced fewer conscience problems.

  Women were generally born with less strength and muscle, but I made up for it with greater agility and quickness than my male opponents. When one of the mercs charged me, I dodged him, letting the man plow into his comrade on my opposite side. They crashed against the fence, uprooting several posts from the sandy earth and snapping others at their bases. The impact drove splinters into bare arms and faces, and one merc shouted in pain. When his head swiveled toward me, I spotted a shard of wood protruding from beneath his right eye, and blood streamed over his cheek. His buddy tried to remove it and received a scream for his efforts.

  I used the distraction to seize a fence post and club the uninjured merc over the head with it. He dropped to the ground, unconscious.

  “If your squad medic is on the property, he can probably save the eye,” I offered, always helpful. The half-blind soldier clambered to his feet and half walked, half crawled up the steps into the rooming house.

  The sergeant watched the man abandon him, then cursed me in at least three languages, two of which I understood. Something about my privates, my father’s parentage, and a piece of rotting meat. I appreciated his creativity and smiled in response, which seemed to unnerve him. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, shooting quick glances at the inn’s closed door.

  “He’ll need surgery. No one’s coming back anytime soon.” My words caught his full attention. “How about I give you a list of things I want and we go see your supply master?”

  Out came the knife. He turned the long wicked-looking blade from side to side, letting the steel catch the sunlight. Its polished metal would have blinded me with the glare if I’d stared directly at it.

  I let out a dramatic sigh. So much for my nice, tension-relieving yard brawl. A few bruises I could live with and hide. If this was going to be an all-out knife fight, it had become more than I could risk while residing in Kila’s house.