Page 83 of Shielded in the Shadows

Rather than obey, Orqiel regarded the datacube on his palm as if contemplating its reasons for existence. “This was not supposed to happen here,” he said, his quiet voice echoing in the chamber.

I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me or thinking out loud. Maybe both.

“Was it supposed to happen on Forval IX?” I asked.

His head jerked up, surprise and suspicion in his silver eyes. I was definitely not supposed to know about the planned meet-up. If he was wondering how the hells I’d found out he was behind the bounty and tracked him down, he was doubly taken aback that I possessed that bit of intel.

“It seems a lot of things were supposed to happen on Forval IX,” I said blandly. “But here we are instead. Play it.”

With an annoyed grunt, he pressed his thumb to the datacube, set it on the marble floor, and stepped back.

A holographic man appeared. A human man, with graying red hair, dull eyes, and sallow skin, sitting in a chair very similar to the ones I’d seen in Orqiel’s front room. Since there was no background in the hologram, I couldn’t be sure if the message had been recorded in this apartment or not, but it seemed likely it was at least in this complex. The chair’s design was distinctive.

“Hello, Keela,” the man said. His voice was rough. He coughed. “You don’t know me, but I know you. I’ve watched you and your sister for a long, long time.”

No.

My insides turned to ice, and I recoiled. All the gods above and below damn me to the deepest, darkest hells, I took a full step back from a gods-damned hologram.

“Turn it off,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t sound as desperate as I feared it did.

The recording paused automatically at the interruption. The hologram froze with the man’s mouth open.

Orqiel’s expression hardened. “No.”

I retracted my gun up my right sleeve and dropped the weapon sheathed on my left forearm into my gloved hand. In a single fluid movement, I spun it as it extended on both ends—one with a hook and the other with blades—and then swung the bladed tip out and up to brush against his throat.

When he swallowed, his flesh moved against the metal enough that it probably left a scratch under his fur.

“Turn. It. Off.” As far as I could recall, my voice had never sounded flatter or colder.

I sensed Jarrix at my back, his warmth and proximity offering support and reassurance that I wished could thaw the glacier my body had become, but even his presence offered no comfort.

Jarrix would have no idea who this man was, but he would soon if that recording continued. He’d already heard the reference to my sister. I felt as if every ounce of control I’d gained over my life was being ripped out of my hands and ground to dust.

I would rather Orqiel had wanted me for some role in the arena or to kill me for a long-ago slight than for this.

“No,” Orqiel said again, his silver gaze locked on my face rather than the relic of both our pasts that was a centimeter away from ending his life. “I gave my word you would hear it and you will.”

“The hells I will,” I spat.

Unfazed, he raised his enormous hands palm up. “If you want the bounty taken down, you will listen. There is no other way to resolve this.”

I jabbed him just enough with the blade of my nivilus to make blood drip down his neck to his chest. He didn’t flinch. Tough old bastard.

“You have no right to demand this of me,” I snapped. “And neither does he. How the hells⁠—”

I cut myself off. I didn’t want to know how this recording ended up in Orqiel’s hands. I didn’t want any of this.

I wanted to get out of this room, out of this arena, and back to the Vespira so Jarrix and I could leave this hellhole of a planet and the man in the hologram far, far behind. Even if it meant spending the rest of my life evading bounty hunters.

But what kind of life would that be? Not just for me, but for Jarrix. For any children we might someday have—if we even chose to have them with a bounty hanging over our heads. A life of endless danger and running. A life where I’d never be able to look for Calla because I’d bring more trouble to her than she deserved.

I squeezed the nivilus so hard that my fingers ached.

I’d told Jarrix that if it came down to a choice between leaving this planet alive and getting answers, we’d choose to live. I’d said nothing about choosing escape over being emotionally gutted.

“I owed him my life,” Orqiel said, almost startling me. Maybe he’d figured out what I’d started to demand before I thought better of it. “He called in the marker. He made the request and I vowed to see it done. Even for the most repugnant of Ganaians, a life debt must be paid.”